


One More Time with Feeling

by SailMyShips



Category: IT - Stephen King, Original Work
Genre: Almost death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Endgame Benverly, Endgame Hanbrough, F/F, F/M, I hope you all enjoy it, I've worked so hard on this, Just a heads up- showing it as "Finished" so it ends up more on people's radars, LGBT characters, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pennywise is a homophobe, This whole AU, endgame Reddie, still ongoing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailMyShips/pseuds/SailMyShips
Summary: Defeated by members of the Losers' Club in 1989, Pennywise returns 27 years later to terrorize the town of Derry, Maine, once again. Only this time- he has a plan. The childhood friends have long since grown and all but one have forgotten most of their time there, and he wants to keep it that way- to keep them away. Turning his attention to a new group of young adults- he's determined to kill them before the adult losers catch wind of what happens.Mike Hanlon however, prevents that. As the losers reunite in Derry to solve the mystery they had almost all forgotten, seven new kids are thrown into the mix as they find their lives affected by this dancing clown.Damaged by scars from the past, the losers unite with old friends and new ones, and must conquer their deepest fears to destroy the shape-shifting Pennywise -- now more powerful than ever.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Still ongoing- showing it as "Finished" so it ends up on people's radars.  
> Trying it out for a bit (1/27/2020)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still ongoing- showing it as "Finished" so it ends up on people's radars.  
> Trying it out for a bit (1/27/2020)

Leaves danced in the wind, a quiet rustling as they brushed by cars, sidewalks, lamp posts. The late summer evening was warm, cooling down as the sun hid behind clouds, slowly sinking out of sight. The loud shrieking of kids playing bounced off of houses, the sound of a ball bouncing on pavement masked the quiet echo of footsteps, sneakers hitting the pavement as a leisurely, consistent pace. Dirt covered converse kicked rocks across the empty street, aiming for a sewer drain and ultimately missing, a quiet curse coming in response.

As the children that had previously been playing basketball or pretend headed inside for dinner, the quiet hum of music started to grow louder. Headphones hanging around ears played some upbeat, early 2000’s pop song, curly black hair hung down through a beanie, adorn the head of a tall man; his youthfulness apparent but his eyes held the looks of an old soul. The summer heat didn’t allow for much fun within outfits, a plain white tank top along with regular black shorts, the utmost of all basics to result in the greatest comfort.

As the sun sank lower and the streetlights brightened, the air around cooled, not enough to where one needed a coat, but the air felt chilly, chillier than what was deemed normal for a summer night in Derry, Maine. The boy walking, Atley, aged twenty, was tapping his fingers together to the beat, some subconscious rhythm he found small comfort in. His eyes were focused ahead, soft and unfocused as he recalled conversations between him and his friends, making note of memorable things.

The sound of a low whisper caught his attention, his focus coming back in full as he looked to where abouts the noise came from. He half expected to see some of the neighborhood kids hiding in a bush or a tree, avoiding going inside while an angry mother stood, hands on her hips. Instead, he was met with empty bushes and trees, leaves and branches swaying in the wind, dancing in almost an unnatural way. Shaking his head, he kept walking, doing his best to focus on the lyrics coming through his headphones, a new song playing, he hadn’t even realized it changed; and he debated on plugging them into his ears fully and turning the volume up all the way.

_ “...and let’s be clear, I trust no one. You did not break me, I trust no one…” _

The sound of heavy breathing by his left ear caused his to heavily flinch, body instinctively recoil to avoid whoever was that close to him. Eyes wide and frantic, he searched all around him, turning in a circle to see it someone was trying to play a prank on him.  _ “...I’m like a rubber band until you pull too hard…”  _ He kept walking, refusing to lower his guard as he continued forward, wanting to get to his house as quick as possible. Wanted to feel the cool AC hit him as he entered, hear the 80’s pop his aunt played loudly while she cooked, wanted to hear the kid’s program his cousin watched with his uncle, wanted-

“Hey pretty boy!” That voice came out crystal clear, and he whirled around, arms flying up into a stance, prepared to fight, but his eyes saw nothing but an empty road, shadows dancing in the streetlights. 

His heart rate had picked up, breath coming out quicker, eyes fearful as he saw no one standing around. He didn’t even see lights from a TV that may be up too loud shining from inside. He was only a three minute walk from his house. Three minutes. He picked up his pace, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes of clearing his head. He was tired, he didn’t sleep too well last night, then everyone went out to the mall today and then Harriet wanted to go swimming so they went swimming and then went to hers, and now he was tired and hungry. That was all, that was it.

“Gonna ignore me?” He felt a chill rise up his spine, legs feeling weak and numb as he kept walking.

_ “...and I want it, I want my life so bad. And I’m doing everything I can…” _

“Aww, Ley,” He wanted to cry, this wasn’t happening, it wasn’t happening to him, it couldn’t be, “It’s not fun to be ignored.”

_ “...but I may snap when I move too close,  _ **_and I will see you fall apart._ ** _ ”  _ He tore the headphones off, shoving them aggressively into his pocket along with his phone. 

Fingers digging into his other pocket, he wrapped his fist around his fidget cube. A small thing, something he made sure he carried around with him every day. He focused solely on the small sounds coming from his pocket, the repetition of his actions, and he kept his eyes forward. A minute away. 60 seconds. He was fine.

“LeyLey,” He shook his head, picking up the pace.

“LeyLey!” He felt someone grab his left arm, and he jerked away, yelling out loud, “No!” 

No one was there. He checked his arm, the strength of the grip had to have-

No marks. No signs anyone had been there, had grabbed him or been calling him- calling him by that nickname.

God no please. Not him. It wasn’t happening now, not now, not ever.

The wind picked up, a soft breeze tickling by, carrying a whisper by his ears, a singsong, child like voice,  _ “Who's going to believe you?” _

His hands were twitching, the need to cover his ears was growing steadily, the rise and fall of his chest quick and harsh. He wasn’t walking now, he didn’t trust his legs to carry him home safely. He needed to breathe, think rationally. 

“Rational? Huh LeyLey?” He whirled around, he wasn’t sure why he did, he hadn’t seen anyone the other times, was only met with emptiness.

This time, however, he saw the face of his mother, and he staggered backwards. “Rational was never something that ran in the family, was it, my little Ley?”

“J-Jesus…” His arms were out before him, eyes wide in fear as she sent him a sickly, sweet smile.

“Oh I can  _ hear  _ your thoughts,” Her voice was as light as he remembered, a small laugh following, “You’re so  _ scared  _ Ley. Why? Is it because...I’m here?” She stepped forward, and he took one back, hands still in front of him, palms facing her.

“You don’t miss me? You don’t miss your dear, sweet mommy?” She pouted, stopping her movements, cocking her head to one side, “You’re still mama’s boy, aren’t you LeyLey? Why don’t you visit me anymore?”

“M-Mama, I-I- “ Why was he answering her? The only sound in his mind was static- how was she here?

“Don’t worry baby, mommy’s not really here,” She laughed, a small giggle that turned maniacal, and he  _ swears  _ he saw her eyes changing color, the deep brown he knew growing up turning into some golden color, “But you can come visit me- come  _ stay  _ with mommy. The asylum has plenty room Atley baby!” She lunged forward, and in a moment of panic he swung at her, hands closing into tight fists, and he felt the throbbing pain as his knuckles came into contact with her jaw.

He fell backwards, landing harshly on his butt, and for a moment, his breath was knocked away from sheer fear. He looked up, ready to kick up at her, ready to fight back, but no one was there. Not a soul in sight, no one running down the street to get away from him, no one laying on the ground, cradling a swollen jaw. His brain knew one thing: run.

He pushed himself to his feet, running as fast as he could, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore, but that wasn’t what was important. He saw his yard- the kid’s bike laid on its side in the grass, his uncles car and his aunts SUV parked in the driveway, he saw his and Madison’s roller skates by the front door. He all but crashed inside, hand still cradled to his chest as he felt his pulse in his fingers- fuck did he break something?

He slammed the door shut, harsher than intended, he heard a soft  _ “Dios mio”  _ come from the kitchen- his aunt was here, that calmed him some. He studied his hand, back against the door as he slid to sit down. His knuckles were already bruising, and he felt a shuddering wave of relief. Someone  _ had  _ been there. He  _ had  _ punched someone. It wasn’t all in his head. 

“Atley, hun,” He heard his aunt’s voice, a soft sound he had grown to love, “Slam the door shut a bit harder next time, would you?”

“Sorry Aunt Alejandra,” He leaned his head back, eyes shut as he heard Madison ask her mom what was wrong. 

“Shush  cariño, just watch your TV,” The soft sound of footsteps caused him to crack an eye open, his aunt’s worried face coming into view as she made her way towards him, “Atley, mijo, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He let out a small laugh, a sound that seemed deranged even to him. He stood up, hugging his aunt, before pulling back, wincing some. She caught on quickly, “What’s wrong Atley?”

He lifted his hand, brushing over the bruises softly. “I just- my hand, it- “

“Oh,” She grabbed his hand in hers, opening the semi closed fist, kissing his palm softly, and he furrowed his eyebrows as she spoke, “Writing cramp again? You need to remember what your abuelita always says!  _ Cuando escribes con una mano lesionada, lastimas las palabras, _ ” She put on the goofy voice she reserved for mimicking family members, and normally the sound made him laugh, made him smile, but now it just added to his fear, “I swear- you and your cousins are such talented writers. Soon you'll all be world famous authors!”

“I- you think, my hand hurts from w-writing?” He turned his hand over, making sure the knuckles were facing her again, and she looked down at his hand, before back up at him.

“Is it not?” He wanted to cry- he wanted to yell,  _ The bruises! The bruises! His knuckles were covered in them do you not see them?  _

“I- no yeah it’s just...it’s embarrassing.” She kissed his cheek, shaking her head.

“You boys think doing something to show emotion is embarrassing! It’s not! It’s good for you, yeah? Now, why are you so sweaty? Did you run here baby?”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore, eyes drifted to stare at where the wall met the floor, his mind drawing a blank and wondering too fast for anything to be processed. “I- on the walk home, I thought I had heard,” He met her eyes, and stopped talking; her eyebrows had knit together, worry and fear showing in her eyes and he was suddenly reminded of what his mother used to say, and he faltered. 

Shaking his head, he forced a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets, clutching his fidget cube. “Uh, Mrs. P turned the news on before we left- and the lady, the news lady just talked about like...kidnapping and human trafficking in small towns. I guess on the walk home, I let my mind wander. Just a little more freaked out about the world." He finished with a shrug, trying to act calm when on the inside he was screaming, his mind telling him the worst of the worst. 

His aunt nodded, still and he hated the instant relief that washed over her face.  _ Of course she was afraid dumbass, you started your sentence off the same way your mom started. She thought you were going to end up like her.  _ "Well, you got home safe and that's what matters. Come, dinner is almost ready, and you need to shower before we eat." He nodded, heading for his room to collect some pajamas, waving to Madison who was drawing the character on the TV before her.

His eyes stung with unshed tears as he made his way to the bathroom, sweatpants and a t-shirt in hand, pulling a towel out of the hall closet. He locked the door behind him, before looking in the mirror. His eyes were red, hair greasy with sweat, and he looked...petrified. He was terrified. He looked at his hand once more- and sure enough the bruises stared back at him, vibrant as hell, and  _ there _ . He turned the water on, making sure it went as hot as he could handle. 

He was cracking. It was happening. He punched someone that wasn't there- there's no way she could have been there. She had been a resident of Derry's Mental Hospital since he was seven. It had been thirteen years. His hand was bruised, a bruise only he could see. His chest tightened as he stepped into the shower, throwing his sweaty clothes into a pile on the floor. 

The night crawled on, families locking up for the night as parents deemed it too late for their kids to be out any more. Cars drove home from the Derry carnival, music low as kids were asleep in the backseat, or talking with excitement over their time spent on the rides and in the games. A small girl, clad in a sweater she borrowed from her dad, sleeves pushed up as far as they could go to allow her to hold her newly won stuffed animal. She spoke with excitement as she told the story of the nice man who won it for her- he had told everyone around them that she had won- and her parents exchanged a fond look as she yawned in between words, knowing full well the nice man had given her the toy, but knowing he hasn't loudly announced she had won. 

For some, the night ended on a high note. Many teens had gone on awkward yet successful dates to small cafés or to the carnival, families had worn their kids out with cheap food and sketchy rides. Yet for many, the night was only the indication of a horrible nightmare come to life. As police were radioed in after a body was found- a new wave of apathy blanketed the town. 

The nice man, Adrian Mellon, who had gifted his winning prize to the small girl near him, Victoria, was only one of the first few caught up in this new, living nightmare. 

And the culprit had his sights set on a new group of kids, and wound ensure that the only group of people who had managed to stop him before  _ wouldn't _ be coming back. The fear coming off of Atley was a beautiful scent, and the tears that had pooled in his eyes were a nice touch. As he lay in bed, texting his friends in their group chat, he took a deep breath, a deep, unknown wave of anxiety crashed over him, but he ignored it, deeming it a side effect of that nights breakdown. Unbeknownst to him, his six friends felt it too, and seven adults felt it across the nation, hours before they received calls from Derry, Maine.

A place every young adult living there wished to escape, and a place every espace adult dreaded to go back to. 


	2. Chapter Two

Bill Denbrough couldn’t stop moving, some part of him had to be moving. Whether his leg was bouncing as he sat, his hands were running through his hair, adjusting his glasses, whether it be the shaking of his hands- he was moving. He wasn’t even entirely sure why. The phone call he had gotten wasn’t  _ bad  _ per say, it wasn’t really...on either side of good or bad. It was cryptid, that’s for sure. 

Mike Hanlon.

A name he hadn’t heard in years. A name he hadn’t  _ remembered  _ in years. 

How does one forget their childhood best friend? How did  _ he  _ forget one of his childhood best friends?

That thought made him pause, as he stopped repacking his bag for the upteenth time.  _ One  _ of his childhood best friends? One of…

He shook his head, he didn’t have time to focus on that now. He had to finish packing, get to the airport, fly across the country to Derry, Maine, and go and- go and...Do what?

What promise had they made when they were young teens in Derry that caused someone he had forgotten to call with a cryptic message? What had  _ happened  _ twenty seven years ago? He felt the scar on his left hand sting, and he clenched his fist. What…?

_ He thrusts his fists against the post… _

He took a deep breath, moving to sit on his bed, hands gripping his hair tightly. His heart was beating like mad, and he didn’t even know why. The unknown caused more anxiety to run through him, and all he wanted was to ignore the call that had come through that morning. He could hardly sleep last night, some part of his mind was nagging at him, nightmares waking him up any time he had managed to drift off.

A small boy in a yellow raincoat, the heavy sounds of raindrops hitting pavement, the air rushing through his hair as he rode his bike, the high pitched screams of his name as he walked away, following  _ something,  _ blood coating a young boys face, a young girl floating above him…

Nightmares that didn’t make  _ sense  _ but they felt more like memories. And that scared him more. Waking up with his heart pounding and a mantra of words about a post and a ghost running through his head, waking up covered in sweat and eyes darting to look at every dark corner of his room. He couldn’t shake the feeling like he normally did, whenever he had had a normal nightmare that scared him awake he would lay there for a moment, try and remember all the details he could, debate if it worked for a new story, then fell back asleep, never to remember the nightmare again. With this? He wished he could fall back asleep and forget, but he  _ couldn’t... _ not again.

He tugged at the ends of his hair with a groan, his brain wasn’t helping. His thoughts were as cryptic as that phone call and the thing was, he didn’t even understand why. Audra was upset he had to leave so soon, and after the petty argument they just had- one of many- she had gone to spend the night with a friend, some upcoming actress who was a minor character a few scenes ago. 

He zipped up his suitcase, not allowing himself to dig through it again, he’d just end up repacking and reorganizing until he was old and withered. His heart rate hadn’t calmed any, and he felt like he may honest to God pass out. He lifted the case off the bed, rubbing his free hand under his glasses and he headed out the door and down the hall. The airport wasn’t too far from his home, and he was hit with a nagging thought that he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since that coffee before the phone call. Yet if he ate anything solid he may just puke it back up, and whether he knows why, he  _ knew  _ he couldn’t miss this meeting. 

In Derry, Maine, many had woken up in the morning to hear the headline of the hate crime committed against Adrian Mellon, reading the first hand account from his boyfriend, Don, who had witnessed the whole thing. The paper casually left out Don’s cries of a clown that had actually  _ killed  _ his boyfriend, police and EMTs believing this to be hysteria from shock. Two hours before Mike called Bill, the doors of the new Catholic church opened, not to the public, but for the family that owned it. 

The McKelly’s were a small family living in Derry, a suburban “perfect” family. Robert McKelly was the priest of this newly established church, his wife, Martha McKelly, was head of their choir, where her fifteen year old daughter, Sophie, a spitting image of her mother, was the lead singer, though her voice wasn’t that great. They were your stereotypical Catholic family, Robert stood at 6’3, broad with stubble, light brown hair and blue eyes; Martha was a petite woman, long, wavy, blonde hair with green eyes, a stunning sight for anyone who laid eyes on her, and Sophie was a fiery young lady, long, wavy dirty blonde hair, green eyes that matched her mother. One look at them and you would know they were a family, and Catholic.

Alexa had lived in that home since she was five, and she was their foster daughter. No part of her made her look as if she was related to the McKellys, and she was honestly grateful for that. While she fit in height wise, she was rather short, she was also quite opposite of the family. Martha was a loud, cheerful woman who had no real backbone, whereas Alexa was a sarcastic, spiteful girl- whose temper was as quick to light as a fuse covered in gasoline. She stood at 5’2, hair short and naturally curly, the type of curls that made her roll her eyes any time Sophie complained about what life was like with curly hair. 

Her eyes were a deep brown, the color that when hit just right with sunlight, made her eyes look like crystals. And as Harriet would tease her, made them look like melted chocolate, and  _ I mean, everyone likes chocolate Lexi!  _

The AC was on high in the church, and Alexa rubbed her arms to try and gain some warmth. Robert had gone to the back, making sure everything was in order and set (Alexa was pretty sure he really just wanted to talk to the new girl, some young 20 something year old who was too naive for her own good), and Martha was ensuring all the choir outfits were pressed just right, and put in the closet in a way that would prevent any wrinkles. 

Alexa was left to her own devices in the main hall, seated on one of the front pews staring at a cement looking Jesus nailed to the wooden cross before the stained glass. A large window depicting Mary with baby Jesus, surrounded by light and smaller angels. She was pretty sure Martha had told her about the full story being shown, but she had zoned out seconds after Martha started talking on the drive.

“Alexa!” She blinked a few times, turning her head to look towards the door that her foster parents had walked through minutes ago.

“Martha? Did you call me?”

“Huh? No, sweetie!” Martha’s voice was muffled, and Alexa stared at the door, practically picturing Martha deep in the closet, going through each dress and each robe, “I’m busy right now Alexa- please don’t disturb me unless it’s really important!”

“Busy?” Alexa mumbled to herself, tapping her feet together, “You’re looking at clothes- how  _ busy  _ can you be?”

She sighed, leaning back and pulling her phone out. She was so tired, she had woken up at 7, and out of the house at 7:30. She’s pretty sure she looked half dead but honestly she didn’t care. She decided to see if anyone of her friends were actually awake, it wasn’t even that early anymore, but Atley was probably up late writing; Nadia, Romona, and Presley had mentioned seeing a movie together- a horror film the other four did  _ not  _ want to see, Mila was probably busy with her mom and aunt, and Harriet...Harriet!

**hey you up?**

**are you trying to sext me or hang out ?**

**…**

**ur the only person ik that actually sends …**

**and i kinda hate it**

**yeah well deal w it**

**i assume you’re up then?**

**i was trying to fall back asleep when u sexted me**

**texted**

**same thing**

**you know what? forget i asked**

**go back to sleep**

**well now i can’t**

Alexa rolled her eyes, rubbing her face. She knew better than to text Harriet right away. Yet the stupid texts and replies made her feel more at ease, and as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck, ease was something very welcomed. She glanced around once more, she felt like there were eyes on her, and that feeling left her uncomfortable and ready to bolt. She shook her head, brushing it off as heightened anxiety. 

She was in a new building, and it was vastly empty, void of the warmth of buildings that have had the blessing of people coming in and out, no stories to be told from age. It was a baby building, something cold and unwelcoming. She stood up, making her way to the front, eyes on the crucified Jesus at the back of the stage, behind the altar table and stands, perfectly between the rows for the chorus lines. 

She wasn’t a fan of this statue. Jesus was made of marble, the cross he was hanging on wood, bright and shiny looking. She wouldn’t be surprised if Robert ordered a custom made statue for  _ his  _ church. For  _ his  _ people. She was just glad Martha talked him out of the goriness he wanted-  _ he  _ wanted to include blood coming from the wounds across his body, but Martha said that there would be young children attending, and they didn’t wish to scare families away.

Ha, Catholic churches, scaring people away. 

Hands on the rails she sighed, body sagging with her weight. She was so tired, and she was dreading the car ride back to the house. Robert was silent, a stoic silence that made the air thick and hard to breath in, whereas Martha would be talking excitedly, voice reaching a pitch only dogs could hear as she told Alexa all the activities she could partake in. Activities she did  _ not  _ want to partake in, but ultimately, she would be forced to do.

She looked back up again, focusing on the stained window that was on the wall behind the statue. Her gaze was unblinking as he let her mind wander, the weight of her keys in her pocket felt heavier than normal- and she patted her side to see if anything else was in her pocket she forgot about. She only felt her keys, and there weren’t that many to begin with- her car key (top of the line SUV Martha gifted her on her 16th birthday, to ensure she looked at least  _ partly  _ like a McKelly), her house key, a key to the church, and a car key to the van’s church- one that was gifted to her on her 18th birthday, marking the beginning of the McKelly’s plan to open their own church- followed by the discussion (more like demand) that Alexa not attend college and instead stay in the McKelly household until she reached 21, where she would move a few blocks down with several other women from the church, and she would be trained to take over the church once Robert retired.

She didn’t know how to politely tell them she would rather gouge her eyes out with a dull, rusted spoon, so she didn’t. There was no point in fighting back- why would she? They raised her from when she was five, housing and feeding her, buying her clothes and sending her to school, they’d done  _ so much  _ for her, something Martha enjoyed throwing into Alexa’s face. Martha had, at first, been warm to her, and not to say she was  _ cold  _ to Alexa now, but she wasn’t someone she felt comfortable with to talk to about...anything, really. She felt more comfortable talking to Mrs. or Mr. P about  _ everything.  _ Well, everything except…

She shook her head. No. She was in  _ church.  _ She can’t think about that, that was a thought she would hold off until she died, until she was sure she was free from the clutches of  _ hell.  _ Sparing another glance at the Jesus that seemed to be staring down directly at  _ her,  _ seemingly smug, knowing what she was thinking, and she could hear a man’s voice, deep and soft saying  _ Repent. Repent. Repent. Re- _

Was Jesus bleeding? 

She straightened her stance, taking a small step back to get a better view. The concrete Jesus had a slow, steady stream of liquid coming down from his eye. It had to be water, some dew from the morning air, right? Her head twitched a bit, this was a trick of the light, or faulty plumbing. But as another stream came from the other eye, it quickened in pace. 

“What the- “ She wanted to step forward and investigate, but she had  _ seen  _ enough horror films with Romona, she  _ knew  _ better than to get too close to strange and unnatural things.

_ Not strange and unnatural. No, there was no way. It was faulty plumbing, remember that news article? Where people thought the Mary statue was lactating or something and people drank the liquid but it was sewer water? Weird, uncommon, but not supernatural.  _

The drops were hitting the floor around the bottom of his cross, and soon enough, there were streams falling from his wrists, where the nails had been shoved through his skin, same as his feet, as his head began to bleed out this liquid as well. She wanted to run, find Martha or Robert, or just get the hell out of there, away from  _ this  _ at least. She looked at where a small puddle was forming and felt her stomach roll. It was  _ red,  _ whatever was coming from this statue-

Expect it didn’t look like a statue anymore, the skin looked  _ human _ , and she could swear she could see the chest moving up and down, at a quick, sporadic pace. Her eyes were wide, frantic as she studied it, there’s no way, no way this was an elaborate prank or production Robert would do, but wasn’t it though? 

She couldn’t form words as the blood started to pour faster, and her eyes were drawn to his face. Eyes that had previously been gray, as it  _ was  _ concrete, were now a deep, unsettling gold as it  _ blinked  _ at her. Mouth opening and closing, blood falling through his lips. Alexa stepped back out of pure fear, feeling her whole body tremble as she stared. 

A moment after her foot touched the ground behind her, she felt the room shake, before the cross and figure of Jesus erupted into flames, ones so hot she could feel them lick her face from where she stood, and she screamed, falling backwards onto the ground. The man in the fire screamed, an agonizing sound, and she turned and bolted towards the door. As she grabbed the heavy handle to leave she heard a deep voice, yelling after her.

“Repent Alexa! Or the fires of hell come your way!” 

Her heartbeat was in her ears, tears in her eyes as she slammed the door behind her, startling a stray cat that had been perched on the railing of the stairs. Martha and Robert had to have heard her scream, had to have heard that man scream, right? She waited, waited for smoke alarms to go off or for someone to come running in and see what was happening, yet as she paced on the stairs for a few moments, nothing followed. Gathering her courage, she cracked the door open, wide enough to where she could fit her head inside. She had her phone in hand, prepared to call 911 when she felt all blood in her body freeze. 

At the far end of the sanctuary, God knows how many feet from her, stood the crucifiction. A concrete Jesus, hanging on a shiny, new, wooden cross, unlit, clean, and very much not alive. She swallowed- there’s no way what she saw wasn’t real, she  _ felt  _ the flames, the heat, she  _ heard  _ the voice and the screams. She couldn’t stay here, she needed to go back to the house, maybe sleep, maybe down some coffee. She turned, shutting the door and jumping down, skipping some steps as she made it to the sidewalk. She ignored passer byers, didn’t stop to pet the neighborhood dog as she normally would, her brain was too fried- pun not intended. 

Before she could walk up the sidewalk to her house a bright color caught her attention, pulling her out of her thoughts. She focused on what had pulled her from her thoughts, and she watched, transfixed and confused, as a single, bright red balloon hovered on her doorstep. The string didn’t appear to be tied to anything, nothing holding it in place, and she glanced at the other houses, trying to see if this was a neighborhood event, getting weird, ominous balloons. The sight of no one else having one on theirs didn’t lessen the drumming of her heart, and she turned, prepared to go inside and pass it, when she stopped.

A figure stood on her porch, where it hadn’t been before, that much she knows. Face hidden by the balloon, she saw the clothes, strange, gray circus clothing, white gloved hand holding the string, before slowly moving it, allowing her to see the face. She wished she hadn’t.

A clown, an actual  _ clown  _ stood on her porch. Face painted white, hair receding and an unnatural orange color, and he was  _ smiling  _ at her. A smile that filled her with dread and her step was still midair, and she faltered, instead, stepping backwards. He said nothing as he stared at her, and she him, and she continued taking slow steps back. Whoever this was, he didn’t seem safe, or  _ sane  _ even, his eyes slowly drifting to look in other directions as drool began to fall from his mouth.

She needed to call someone, call Martha or Robert or Harriet or the Goddamn police or- 

A car horn startled her, and she turned, fast enough to see some off white car driving towards her, faster than the state 25 mph for a neighborhood, and she didn’t even have time to think before she dove out of the way, falling onto her hands and knees, rolling into the gutter to avoid being hit. The horn blared at her again as the driver didn’t slow down, and she glared after it. The fear of almost dying wore off, and she shot up, wincing as a trickle of blood fell down her left knee, but she had other things to worry about. Mainly, the clown that had stood on her porch was gone, and in his place was a popped red balloon, falling on top of a bloody, beaver hat, and in bright red letters she read the words “I  [ ♡ ](https://emojipedia.org/white-heart-suit/) Derry”.

///

Harriet was frowning at her phone five minutes ago, and she still was now. Alexa was the  _ queen  _ of cryptid texts if you asked her. After giving up, Alexa  _ clearly  _ wasn’t texting her back, she sighed, letting her phone flop onto her chest. She hardly slept last night, plagued with nightmares she couldn’t remember, leaving her shaking, eyes wide and heart pounding.

She needed coffee.

Forcing herself out of her bed she grabbed her phone, scrolling through instagram as she padded down her hall slowly, clad in shorts and a t-shirt she may have stolen from her dad, her bare feet making contact with the wooden floors. The house was  _ old  _ and she hated it, she was convinced it was haunted, any house built this long ago is  _ clearly  _ haunted. As she continued down the hall she heard the sound of muffled voices, and she paused. She could clearly hear her dad playing with her baby brother, and she could hear her mom and sister bickering about the mall. She stopped at the bathroom door, seeing light creeping out from under, and she leaned closer.

“ - my friends  _ are  _ nice, they’re good people.” She heard Dean, his soft voice speaking and he sounded almost upset.

Did he have a friend over? Grabbing the door knob she swung it open, seeing her curly haired brother sat on the floor cross legged, and she gripped the doorframe with her free hand, leaning in to peer around. “Who you talking to?”

“A clown.”

Her face went blank, staring at her brother. “A clown?”

“Yeah, he talks to me from the drain.” He pointed to the bathtub, and Harriet walked in, peering into the bathtub, expecting to see exactly what she saw- nothing.

“The fuck?” She tried to keep her voice low as she spoke to herself, turning back to Dean with cross armed, “Aren’t you a little old to have imaginary friends?”

He didn’t stand up, mirroring her stance, arms crossed and face defiant, “Aren’t I a little young to hear you cursing?” 

She pursed her lips, not saying a word and backing out of the bathroom. Her brother was one of the smartest kids she knew, and it got her into trouble a lot of the time. Rolling her eyes she continued to make her way to the kitchen, bookmarking a few videos she needed to show one of her friends. Her mom was shooing her sister out of the kitchen upon Harriet’s entrance, and she ignored the tongue being stuck out at her, choosing to make her way to the coffee pot, grabbing her mug from the shelf.

“Morning sweety.” She didn’t look up, ensuring her coffee to cream to sugar ratio was just right.

“Morning mom.”

She turned, grabbing a spoon and stirring her cup, eyes lifting up to meet her moms, and she paused, the worry and concern on her moms face striking her. “Is everything okay?”

Running a hand through her hair, her mom sent her a strained smile. “I...need you to be more careful out on the streets for a bit, okay hun?”

Setting her mug down she leaned back on the counter, “Why? What happened?” Her dad had come in, holding Justin on his hip, and he and her mom exchanged a sad look, “Did I do something?”

“No no, not you hun,” Her dad kissed her forehead, and she furrowed her eyebrows at him, “I...they found a body, this morning.”

She felt uncomfortable at that statement, but shrugged at her parents, “Okay? We don’t stay out that late anyway, and none of us are alone when we’re out, so like- “

“No hun. This man, his name was Adrian Mellon, he wasn’t from Derry, he,” Her mom trailed off, biting her lip, “He was out with his boyfriend when a group of men attacked him, and through him off the bridge before they...well.” 

Her dad handed Justin to her mom, before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We just want you to be safe hun, these men they…” He shook his head and she felt cold at his words.

Derry wasn’t a good place, she knew that, she hated the small town life with people who seemed stuck in an era  _ years  _ ago, but a hate crime? A hate crime that resulted in the death of someone? She understood why her parents were telling her this, she was named the ‘Town’s Queer’ in freshman year, a year after telling her friends and family she thought she was bi. Sure people made comments, they used to write things on her locker, leave notes on her desk- but no one ever got physical. Until…

She shook her head, moving away from her father’s arms. “It’s...fine, I’ll be more careful. Uh, I’m gonna go,” She shrugged, gesturing around absentmindedly, “Go get changed.”

Taking her coffee cup she made her way back to her room, phone in hand as she stared blankly at the floor. Passing the bathroom she saw the light still on, and she could hear her brother talking. Normally she would just pass by, ignoring things that didn’t involve her, but a statement came through and rang in her ears.

“ - she’s a dyke, right?” The soft, innocent voice of her brother saying words like that didn’t sit well with her, and she got angry, angry at those kids he hung out with, instantly thinking that they were putting information and phrases into her brother’s head.

She grabbed the handle, swinging the door open with more force than before. “Listen Dean you can’t - “ She stopped, seeing the bathroom empty of her brother, empty of anyone but her, “Dean?”

A rustle came from the bathroom closet, and she rolled her eyes, feeling herself grow hotter with frustration and anger. “Dean, c’mon, you can’t say things like that,” She moved to the closet, grabbing the door and opening it, still scolding, “That’s not a nice word to call someone - “ She froze, he wasn't there either, “Dean?”

The door to the bathroom slammed shut, and she turned, feeling hot coffee fall from her cup onto her hands and she winced, placing the mug on the counter. “Dean? Dean this isn't funny!” She grabbed the handle, turning it, to find it locked, before turning to bang on the door, “Dean let me out!” 

_ “Fucking fag,”  _ She stopped her movements, hearing the unmistakable voice of her uncle, a man her parents haven’t talked to since her sophomore year, and she whirled around, eyes darting around the bathroom, not seeing anyone in sight.

_ “Dyke.”  _ Her brothers voice came from right next to her, and she winced, crying out. 

_ “Lesbo.”  _ She choked up, hands gripping her hair as the next voice being thrown at her was the voice of Romona, and she started shaking her head wildly.

_ “Hope you’re prepared to go to hell,”  _ Alexa’s voice, and she covered her ears, trying to block the noises out. 

_ “Just chose a side!” _

_ “C’mon baby, you down for a good time?” _

_ “Slut.”  _

She slid down, falling to the ground. She didn’t know what was happening, but the voices slowly started morphing into those that they she knew; Romona, her mom, Alexa, Dean, Atley, Presley, her dad, Mila, Nadia, kids from school, people from work, people-

They stopped. She had tears streaming down her face, eyes twisted shut, hands gripping her hair and ears, curled into a ball on the ground. She slowly started looking up, expecting to see half the town in her bathroom but she was alone, alone in her bathroom, staring down the open closet door before her. She watched, transfixed with horror, as something fell from a shelf, and she let out a pained noise as she saw it was an old journal she kept, one she remembered burning, a journal she kept all through middle school, and she  _ knew  _ what was in there. A hand reached out from the dark shadows, gripping the book before picking it up, and as it was opened she watched drops of blood fell from the pages.

“Oh little Harriet,” A gruff, sing song voice sang her name, and she brought her legs closer to her chest, eyes widening, “What would you  _ do  _ if they knew?”

The voice made shivers run up her spine, and her eyes were still wide, staring ahead at the hands holding a journal covered in tween stickers, something destroyed years ago, back, in front of her. Glowing eyes came from the dark of the closet, and she let out a broken, “W-Who- ?”

“Harry, what if they  _ knew?”  _ Deranged laughter followed the question, and she reached up, tugging desperately at the handle of her bathroom door,  _ hoping  _ to find it unlocked, and she swallowed a sob when she found it wasn’t.

“Why not show them Harry?” The hands reached forward, coaxing the journal towards her, and she watched, horrified, as pages began to fall from it, blood stained, and her awful handwriting stood out to her, names written and crossed out. 

As quickly as it all happened it stopped, and she was left alone in an empty bathroom, leaning against the bathroom door, body shaking with sobs, eyes wide and staring ahead at what now appeared to be nothing, and it took her brain a moment to catch up as her body fell backwards.

Now laying on her back, her eyes were turned upwards, and she saw the reasoning behind the predicament she was in. Her sister, her sweet baby sister, blue eyes staring down at her with confusion, had swung the door open, not knowing Harriet was putting all of her weight against it.

“Um?”

She scrambled up, legs feeling like they had never held her weight before, hands shaking intensely, and she turned back around, refusing to keep her eyes off of the closet that now stood empty, void of anything but towels and guest toiletries. 

“Harriet? Are you...okay?” Sarah’s voice was light, soft and oh so confused.

She could hear the footsteps of one of her parents coming their way- probably her dad- and she panicked. What was she supposed to say? Some grown person was hiding in their tiny bathroom closet and taunted Harriet with memories of one of the hardest years of her life? Who in their right mind would  _ believe  _ that. 

She nodded, sending her sister a tight lipped smile. “Just stressed pipsqueak.” She ruffled her wavy hair, ignoring the light slaps she received and walked quickly back to her room, avoiding the questioning look her dad was giving her as he came around the corner.

They would probably brush this off as her having an episode after hearing the news they told her. 

Grabbing her phone she pulled her messages up, not before doing a 360 and looking around her room, ensuring there were no dark corners that even Justin could hide in. Her thumbs hovered over the messages, the group chats and individuals before stopping on one.

**hey u free rn?**

_ what did u do _

**i’m offended**

**i did nothing**

**wanted to see if u were free**

_ well i am _

_ what do u want _

**coffee**

**or alcohol**

**alcoholic coffee**

_ woah  _

_ you okay man? _

**no presley**

**i am in now way shape or form okay**

**so**

**coffee**

_ yeah sure man _

_ let me get changed _

Harriet sighed, allowing her body to all but fall back onto her bed. She still had tears steadily falling down her cheeks, body still shaking like crazy. She wasn’t kidding when she said she needed alcohol. But no one in this stupid town was going to sell her any before she turned 21. There was no way she could explain what happened to Presley, he may have been her longest friend, but even  _ he  _ would think she’s gone insane. 

Sitting up she brushed the tears away,  _ had  _ she just gone insane? Seeing some grown, creepy guy in her closet-

Except she hadn’t seen him. She saw hands, she saw eyes, she heard a voice. Too realistic for her to have made up in some daydream...daymare, really. Her brain felt like it  _ was _ breaking, she didn’t know how to comprehend what she just saw. Kicking her foot out softly, she pushed against the wrapped box near her bed. Tomorrow they would go out and celebrate Mila’s birthday. Tomorrow they would have a giant group hang out that would end with all seven of them sleeping in a pile in Harriet’s room, and they would wake up with at least Alexa  _ under  _ Harriet’s bed, probably shifting to avoid Harriet’s limbs.

She didn’t even bother getting changed, putting on flip flops as she stared down at the floor.  _ God,  _ she stood up, receiving the ‘beep beep’ text, heading outside to hop in Presley’s shit car,  _ I can’t wait for too mediocre Chinese food tomorrow. Jade, don’t let me down. _

///

Steam- or was it smoke- whatever it was, it was coming from the front of the two cars, both squished in from the impact of the accident. Horns were blaring, New York traffic stopped for no one, people were yelling- loudest of them all was the taxi driver that hit Eddie’s car. Granted, he knew it was his fault- he  _ did  _ run a red light. He had hit his head on the side of his car, the impact aiding his already growing headache, but for once it wasn’t a headache coming from the stress of his job or Myra, but instead started the moment he saw where the call he got came from.

Derry, Maine.

“- hey! Hey asshole are you listening to me?!” He zoned back in, eyes tearing away from staring at his car, eyes tracing the broken glass on the ground, “I got people to drive man! I gotta job I need to get back to dickhead! How ‘m I supposed to get back to work when my engine ain’t even in my car?”

That was being dramatic, if the engine came flying out the damage here would have been  _ way  _ worse, plus that would only aid the idea that taxis were unsafe and in Eddie’s opinion, one of the worst modes of transport. 

“You gonna fucking say anything?” Eddie turned his gaze to the man, whose face was red from anger.

It was surprising New Yorkers didn’t just fall from busted veins on the daily. Eddie pulled out his phone, “Look I’ll give you my number - “

“I don’t want your number asshat I - “

“ - and my insurance company and all that’s needed,  _ sir, _ ” Eddie cut him off, eyes darting up to glare briefly at the man, “I want to get this settled as quick as I can, and I have places to be. I’ll call a tow truck - “

“I already called one,” The man had the audacity to look smug and Eddie had a brief feeling of deja vu.

_ “I already called that one!” A young face stood before him, eyes slightly larger behind his glasses that he adjusted, elbow jutting out to hit Eddie in the ribs. _

_ “C’mon man! He’s the only one I know how to handle!” _

_ “Well then you better watch and learn Spaghedward!” _

_ “If you call me that one more time I swear - “ _

“ - and he’ll be taking your fancy ass car to the fucking pound!”

“Pounds are for...animals.” Eddie brought himself back to the present, and as crappy as this moment was, he worked on focusing more now, “He’ll be taking my car to the - “

“Doesn’t matter!” Eddie closed his eyes, feeling his frustration growing ever shorter with this man.

His phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out, fear spiking that it was going to be Mike again. But no, it was Myra. He made a split second decision and hit decline, shoving it back into his pocket. After writing down all his information to give to the man, he’d be sure to call his insurance company, already jotting down the taxi driver’s license plate as he made no moves to give Eddie his information. 

“Look,” Eddie cut the mans angry yells off, voice clear cut and harsh, he waved his hands around in a tight motion, “I don’t have time for this! I have things to do, places to be - “

“As if you’re the  _ only  _ one who - “

“ - and I will be leaving, yeah?” He placed the paper in the man's hand, seeing a tow truck make its way through the traffic towards his car, “Have a nice day, asshole. Bye.”

He turned to walk off, being careful as he stepped about the broken glass on the ground. He watched from the side as his precious car was hooked up, and normally he would freak out, be yelling and scare the tow truck driver away, but right now? Now he had a bigger problem on his plate.

Mike Hanlon. Derry, Maine. Summer of 1989. 

A childhood worth of memories he’s forgotten. A childhood worth of friends he couldn’t remember.  _ How  _ did he forget? He remembers moving to New York with his mom in high school, he remembers crying into his pillows because he  _ couldn’t  _ he didn’t  _ want  _ to he couldn’t leave his friends behind, he couldn’t leave Richie - 

Richie.

He stopped so abruptly, a few people behind him ran into his back, and he got a few curses thrown his way. He kept walking, hands digging into his pockets as his mind wandered. Richie Tozier...the comedian. Holy shit one of his childhood friends was a fucking famous comedian. 

How had he forgotten all these people? Mike clearly hadn’t forgotten him,  _ why?  _ What made him so different?

Thinking about going back made Eddie’s chest ache, and for a brief moment he was worried this day was going to give him a heart attack.

_ “It’s all in your head man! Like you said- gazebos!” _

“Gazebos…” He mumbled quietly, laughing softly as he remembered the confusion in his head.

He remembered standing up to his mom, something he forgot...something that allowed her to gain back her control over him. He ducked into a coffee shop, falling into an empty chair, head falling into his heads. He was making connections now, but these connections made no sense. Why couldn’t he remember? He wasn’t in an accident, not until today. Mike Hanlon...Richie Tozier….Who else did he forget? 

He sat back, eyebrows furrowing. His mom hadn’t ever mentioned them, did she forget too? Maybe they  _ had  _ been in an accident. 

Mike’s message was worried, almost frantic. And he didn’t know  _ why.  _ What was so important Eddie  _ had  _ to come back? Pulling his phone out he saw several missed calls from Myra, one from his office and one from his secretary (he’d have to make a note to give her a week off she worked  _ way  _ too hard), and several texts from Myra as well. 

He bypassed all of that, ignoring the still incoming messages as he opened his browser. His fingers were slow as he typed, and he felt more anxious in this moment than he had throughout his whole life.

As his thumb hovered over the ‘purchase ticket’ button he paused. Was he really doing this? Was he really going back after receiving some cryptid call from a friend he could hardly remember?

But he pressed, paying the all too expensive price for a last minute ticket, he grimaced- he was really doing this.

Now he really had to go home and pack- and the thought of standing up to Myra, telling her he was going to Maine, leaving  _ her  _ for some unknown quest- he shut his eyes, rubbing his face with such aggression he was worried he’d rub it raw. He stood up to his mother as a prepubescent child, he can stand up to his wife as a fully grown man. 


	3. Chapter Three

The unease in his stomach was the only thing letting him know he was awake. Any dream or nightmare Richie had had before never allowed his to feel any type of physical pain. But here he was, seated on the too stiff, too small couch in his dressing room, damp with sweat, body shaking and stomach rolling. He didn’t even know why he felt this way- who feels this way after a phone call? His manager was outside the room, and he could hear the argument between him and the theatre manager. 

“ - paid over hundreds of dollars for their tickets for tonight!”

“We can refund them- offer first pick of tickets at other nights.”

“I hope you don’t think you’re doing another night here- after  _ that  _ shit show?!”

“Ma’am, I understand you’re upset, but - “

“Damn right I’m upset! I took a chance on him, and I got fucked over! I have acts booked for every night this week, and this was one of the few that sold out instantly. And now here we are- an empty theatre, hundreds of pissed off fans, and not only are they demanding refunds, but as a theatre we lost a shit ton of money!”

“Look, I understand, but Richie, he- he’s going through a lot right now, and I can assure you - “

“What shit is going through that causes him to puke on my fire escape, forget  _ his  _ own shitty material, all but run off stage and drink more of my booze than the audience tonight put together?!”

“That is  _ none  _ of your concern! He is going through a  _ personal  _ matter and - “

“I want all of you out of here by the next hour. I have to go figure out how much damage he’s made to my fucking bar.” He could hear the clicks on her heels as she stormed off, and he fell forward, head falling into his hands, and he internally grimaced at the sweat on his forehead.

The door opened, and he sat back, leaning against the couch as he watched Elliot walk in. “Hey Rich, you feeling any better.”

In response he grabbed his glass, downing a mouthful of scotch, coughing a bit as he felt some liquid fall down the wrong pipe, but continued to say nothing. Elliot nodded. “I was afraid of that. Look, we - “

“I have to leave.” Elliot paused, watching as the taller man stood up, grabbing his coat from where he threw it down on the makeup chair.

“Well, yeah Ms. Cold wants us out, and basically banned us from here, but that’s not important right now - “

“No, Elliot,” Richie turned to face him, “I have to go. Get out of town.”

“Rich, tonight’s show was  _ not  _ that bad,” Elliot was trying to reason with the thought of Richie fleeing because he was ashamed of the act, “Lots of celebrities have mental breakdowns! I assume whoever called told you something not good, so we’ll just say that there was a death in the family or something and - “

“No, the phone call, it- “ He ran a hand through his hair, “Jesus fucking Christ the phone call. I’m going to Maine.” Saying it outloud made his stomach roll again, and he gagged some, Elliot fetching a small trash can as quick as he could, handing it to Richie.

Luckily, or unluckily, the only thing in his stomach was liquid, so he managed to keep himself from puking again. He still held onto the trash can, face miserable as he and Elliot stood in the middle of his dressing room.

“I’m...going back to Maine, Elliot. I have to.”

Elliot, sweet, tiny, trusting Elliot, just nodded. “Yeah, okay, okay. Whatever happened, you go back to Maine, figure some shit out, get closure or...whatever it is you need, and then I mean- you get a break right? I’ll put out there there was a personal issue and you’re going off the grid for a bit. Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

Richie choked on a laugh, falling back onto the couch- soon enough there would be a Richie dent on this one seat. “No, fucking- I have  _ no  _ idea about  _ anything  _ in Maine. I grew up there and even then I- “ That’s right, he grew up in Maine, in...Derry. Derry, Maine. Was it good? Was it bad? He- couldn’t recall.

He couldn’t remember his childhood, hell he  _ just  _ remembered  _ where  _ it was he grew up. How is that something one forgets?

Elliot kept talking, “Alright, I’ll book you a first class flight, please don’t down too much alcohol before the flight again, okay? We don’t need you dry heaving the whole flight across the country. And make sure you  _ eat  _ before okay? Get to the airport early, grab something quick, and a  _ water  _ bottle, Richie.”

_ “Do you know if you only drink soda you’ll get  _ kidney stones  _ Richie?! You need to drink some water- no Richie put the fucking soda down this is your sixth cup!” _

“What?”

Elliot looked up from his phone, “What? You need to drink more water Rich, it’s not good to live off of booze and coffee.” He tapped away, blissfully unaware of Richie’s internal breakdown, a random memory coming from the idea of him drinking a  _ water bottle,  _ “Okay, tickets are purchased, go home and pack, then get there,  _ eat _ , and then sort this all out, sound good?”

Richie nodded, placing the bin down and standing up, taking a shuddery breath, “Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

Sounds good. 

Sounds good. 

Sounds…

“ _ Good  _ job Miller!” Nadia groaned, stepping back and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Her entire body was sore and she could feel her energy dropping, but she still had another ten minutes before her appointment was up. Brad, her trainer, put his hands down, giving her a look that asked if she wanted to stop early. She shook her head.

Gaining her breath, she brought her arms back up, body tense and ready. The next ten minutes went by faster, and she knew tomorrow she would regret not taking a break, as she always did. As Brad took off his punching mitts, Nadia sighed, sitting harshly on the ground, legs stretched out before her.

“You good Miller?” Nadia looked up, accepting the water bottle from Brad and nodded, downing about half before she had to stop in order to breath.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” She coughed some, feeling sweat fall down from her brows and she groaned. “I feel disgusting. And my body is going to not want to move for the next few days, but other than that I’m fine.”

Brad laughed, used to her quips and snarky responses. “You know you could have texted me and we could have rescheduled, right?”

She glowered at him. “I’m not a quitter, Brad. I’ll just accept feeling like death at dinner tomorrow, and never move.”

“Never move?”

“Yup,” She nodded, pushing herself to stand, cracking her neck some, ignoring Brad’s wince at the noise, “Once I sit down at the Jade, I’m never moving again. It’ll be my new home for a while.” 

She only received an eye roll in response. “Yeah, okay.” He clapped her on her shoulder, causing her to jolt forward some, the unexpected sign of affection startling her, “Good job today. Grab your shit, get a smoothie, go home and shower- because you stink.”

Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out. “You’re one to talk.” 

He rolled his eyes at her, grabbing the towel that had laid on his shoulder and half-heartedly whipping it at her. “Shower Nadia,” She grumbled but pulled herself up.

He gave her a thumbs up as he headed to the men’s locker room, bobbing his head to the beat of the song playing over head, some upbeat number from their custom made work out playlist. Downing the rest of her water she walked towards the women’s locker room, feeling her tank top grip her body with sweat- and she grimaced. She really does need a shower.

Lucky for her, the gym was closing early today, and she was one of the last few people there- which meant she had the showers all to herself. She set her phone up on the sink, skipping a few songs before settling onto  _ Aliens Exist _ , the album being her and Alexa’s all time favorite. She mouthed the words as she grabbed underwear, a bra, sweats and a t-shirt from her bag, laying them out near her phone along with a gym towel. 

As she undressed she paused, turning slightly to look around. She felt like someone was watching her. Normally she was fine sharing the showers, that’s what happened on a normal day. But the feeling of being stared at wasn’t a comfortable one; most people have common courtesy to not stare at someone undressing. But as she saw no one she brushed it off as being over tired and paranoid. 

She let herself relax in the shower, the mind numbing feeling of water hitting her tense muscles and the sounds of it bouncing off and running down the stupid airtight cover she had to wear on her leg. The voice of Mike Skiba echoed around the shower room as she came to an end, ringing out the rest of the conditioner before shutting the water off. She stood for a moment, eyes shut as she let the steam surround her, before sighing, opening the curtain and grabbing her towel, wrapping it around her body. 

She turned, moving to grab a towel for her hair as she began working the cover off of her leg, eyes brushing past the mirror, and the sight caused her to freeze. The reflection staring back at her was her- the same green eyes wide and slowly filling with fear and confusion, same mouth ajar, same freckles, same nose, same position of her slightly bent. But that wasn’t  _ her.  _ It couldn’t be. 

The body shown in the mirror was gastly thin- and though there was a towel covering it, she could tell her ribs were jutting through, and she imagined one would be able to count them without squinting. Her collar bones looked almost like someone made them with sfx makeup, they were so prominent, her cheeks sunken in, bags heavy under her eyes. Her hair was limp, more than just damp from water, but dead. Her arms were just bone and skin. She reached a hand up, feeling her cheek, and watched with horror as her skeleton looking reflection did the same. 

_ “What have you become? What have you become? What have you become?” _

A foreign song had begun playing on her phone, and the words hit her, unnerving her more than she was. She wanted to move, grab her phone and get dressed, and dart out of the bathroom, but she was transfixed, staring with panic at what was before her. 

_ “Isolated. Some foreigner in my skin. Some broken barbarian. I never meant to feel so dark and cold.”  _

It was cold. It wasn’t cold before, but all heat from her shower was gone. She fumbled forward, grabbing her sweats and shirt, hands shaky and unsteady as she took off the cover, allowing it to fall to the floor as she put the bottoms on. The towel fell, and she glanced up quickly, almost slipping backwards as the reflection was no longer that- and was instead  _ her  _ closer, towel fell off her body, eyes hollow and lips cracked and slightly bloody as she smiled at Nadia. 

She gripped the shirt in her hands tighter, stepping backwards. 

“Do you like what we become?”

Her voice echoed in her own voice, as the reflection did nothing but stare and smile at her, and she almost screamed, but her voice was caught in her throat. She managed to get her shirt on, arms getting snagged a few times as she blindly grabbed her belongings, shoving them in her gym bag before bolting, eyes welling up as she pushed past a confused Brad, leaving her shoes behind, leaving her dirty towel on the shower floor. She made it to her car, fingers trembling as she unlocked the door, all but throwing herself inside, locking the doors around her. She took a few moments to breath before her body began shaking, and soon the tears fell faster, and she began sobbing, face falling into her hands as she proceeded what happened.

What happened?

///

The sound of the front door being slammed shut pulled Presley from his thoughts, and he frowned. He grabbed his bookmark- a stretch to even  _ call  _ it that, it was just a rectangular piece of paper that Romona had drawn some of his favorite flowers on it in high school- and placed it in between his pages.

114-115. 

He nodded, eyebrows still slightly furrowed as he walked to place it on his desk. After driving him and Harriet to the nearby coffee shop and having her sit silent for minutes, before snapping back into herself like nothing happened left him feeling shaky and weird. Harriet had off days, sure, they all did. But she never went nonverbal and verbal like a snap of fingers, and she never brushed it off or didn’t offer  _ some  _ explanation. After hanging for about two hours she insisted he drive her home, saying she needed to finish Mila’s birthday card which was code for ‘I haven’t started her gift and really need to’.

He went home after that, entering and offering his grandma a kiss on the cheek as she sat knitting some attempt at a scarf he suspected was  _ for  _ Mila, watching a rerun of some old show from her teenhood. Tonight was his turn for making dinner, and he had about half an hour before needing to start, and he suspected his grandpa left for the store- probably to get a newspaper and eggnog. Weird time for both- after all, it was a summer evening. But his grandparents were well known around the town, and the local diner where his grandpa went always had those two just for him.

Presley sighed, moving towards his book shelf. He had time to either start a new book or get another page or two into another. His fingers brushed across the spines of the books laid before him. 

_ ‘Romeo and Juliet’ ‘Things Fall Apart’ ‘Pride and Prejudice’ ‘The Secret Garden’ _

He paused on that one, when was the last time he had even picked that book up? Letting this be his deciding factor he pulled it from between  _ Pride and Prejudice  _ and  _ Good Omens.  _ He snorted, he needed some form of organization past putting whatever wherever it fit.

He flipped open to where the bookmark was poking out some, and paused, a small smile creeping onto his face. He forgot about this photo- somehow. A printed out picture, him and his friends smiling up at him, little doodles done around, courtesy of said friends. His handwriting was at the bottom,  _ ‘Lucky Seven. 7/2/2012.’  _ A perfect date, a perfect friend group.

He laughed slightly to himself, remembering the aftermath of that day- Harriet slipping in the mud and pulling him down with her, and after the two calmed down he watched with amusement as she chased the other five, screaming about mud hugs and what not.

As loud and weird as she was, she was his best friend, after all she’s the only one who could ruin one of his favorite shirts and he could forgive.

He went to move the picture, switch it out for a real book mark so he could hang this on his wall when a glint caught his eye. He tilted it a few ways, trying to recreate the gleam that happened, a trick of the light. But as he studied it, he realized it was not a light coming from outside, but in the picture. The picture, that was now moving. 

He shut his eyes. 

He wasn’t in Harry Potter, that was fake, that wasn’t real. 

He opened them again.

The picture was still moving, the once frozen, happy smiles now fallen into frowns, serious expressions with furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips on each of his friends’ faces. It was like watching a silent film- a silent film that shouldn’t even be happening.

He watched as not-Romona seemed to be yelling, silent fumes coming from her before she moved quickly, backing up and away, leaving the group and leaving Presley’s line of sight. He felt the book drop from his fingers, and the hand gripping the picture became damp, and his eyes darted, before he shrieked, dropping the photo, watching as it fell heavy to the desk. The side where Romona had stormed off was covered in blood, and the blood was soaking its way into the real world, a small pool forming on his desk. He panicked, picking it up once more, trying desperately to wipe away at the pool, looking back at his photo with a nauseated stomach.

Two more left- Harriet and Alexa walked the opposite way- and the crestfallen look on picture his face spoke volumes. The other side soon followed, becoming damp with blood. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, his face was warm, his fingers were covered with blood- his friends blood- Romona’s blood- Alexa’s blood- Harriet’s blood- oh God.

His breath was quick and his chest tightened, throat growing cold as he began to tremble.

“Presley?”

He jumped, a strangled yell coming from his mouth as he ripped his eyes away from his desk, clutching his shirt with a death grip. His grandma stood at the door, eyes soft with worry and confusion.

“Baby are you okay? I called your name a few times- you yelled out.”

“I- I’m- “

Was he okay? In short terms, no. In long terms, hell no he wasn’t.

He glanced at the picture, now frozen on his, Mila, Nadia, and Atley’s faces, eyes wide with horror and tears, blood staining either side of the photo.

“Pres?”

He turned, swallowing hard. His throat felt like he had just swallowed a razor, and instead of words coming out of his mouth he began coughing.

“Oh hun are you not feeling well?” His grandma walked in, pressing her cool hand against his forehead, “No temperature. Maybe just a cold?”

“N-No I’m- it’s not a cold, grandma.” He softly grabbed his wrist, bringing it away from his forehead, shaking his head slightly, eyes going unfocused and downcast.

“Have you eaten today? You look pale as a ghost!” She laughed, amusing herself with her own words as Presley shut his eyes.

Ghosts were spirits, dead people. People who met their end and were cursed to wander the world, forgotten and alone and hurt and-

“Oh where did you find this?” Eyes opening, he tuned their focus in, eyes narrowing on the picture in her hands.

“Grandma- “

“This is precious! Oh I’ll have to find a frame for this- did your friends do these little drawings? They’re so cute- all the hearts and clovers. You always did love clovers, here,” He couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes, a lump forming in his throat as she pat his cheek, and he felt the stain of blood from her fingertips coat where she touched, yet she acted unaffected, “I’ll go downstairs and find a frame for this- we’ll have it in our living room! And I’ll call the diner your grandpa’s at- see if they can’t send him home with some soup and baguettes. Warm soup will be good for your soul!”

She left his room, holding a photo frozen in fear, blood and death- and yet she held it to her chest as if she were cherishing a golden moment in time. And maybe she was. Maybe it used to be. But as Presley let his fingers drag across his cheek, he felt bile build in his throat, the warm, gooey liquid digging itself under his nails. 

///

The water was warm. No, not warm. Hot. Scalding. It hurt, or, it should have. He couldn’t really feel anything, his body felt numb, his brain, his heart- everything. 

He subconsciously hoped the water would bring him back to his senses, snap him out of whatever this was. It did nothing of the sort. His mind raced with memories- water.

Jumping off a cliff, body hitting freezing cold water, soaking him to the bone. But unlike now, it made him feel alive, and he can almost  _ feel  _ the cool air hit his curls as he remembers popping out of the water laughing. 

No one was laughing now.

Who could?

He wishes he could. He wishes he could laugh it off, towel off, change into sweats, head downstairs and kiss his wife softly, go back and make good of the promise he made years ago.

We were kids, why was the fate of their town- of the greater good up to them?

_ “I hear the list is longer than my wang!” “That’s not saying much.” _

He could feel the breeze traveling through that alleyway, he could feel his heart heavy with anticipation as they hurried to patch up the new kid. The new- what was his name?

_ “Not every fucking plant is poison ivy Stanley!” _

The water around his feet and ankles felt cool, and he took a shuttery breath, eyes shutting as a putrid smell entered his nose. Gray water.

_ “What’s the black spot?” _

Mike. Mike Hanlon. He dealt with so much before he met them, and he had to after they all left. And he was doing it again, but he couldn’t do anything but.

_ “You saw it too!” “I didn’t want to!” _

None of them wanted to, none of them wanted that feeling of fear crushing their hearts. The fear he feels at random times when a painting holds his gaze in a funny way or when his college friends suggested that they go to a circus together. 

_ “S-Swear it.” _

He nodded, eyes open towards his bathroom ceiling, but all he saw was that damn face. Haloed with sunlight, auburn brown hair a mess, eyes fearful but determined. He felt the ghost of a smile warm it’s way onto his face.

“I swear, Bill.”

What was it he told Patty? 

The turtle couldn’t help them now. 


	4. Chapter Four

_ “What the dick is this? How’d you build it?” _

_ “More like w-when’d you build it.” _

A clubhouse.

_ The  _ clubhouse. Specifically, the first thing he ever built, and for  _ them.  _ His friends. 

_ “What’s in Florida Mike?” “I dunno.”  _ Mike. Mike Hanlon. Short black hair, kind eyes and a smile that calmed Ben down from high anxiety, from stress. Sturdy and strong, quieter than the others but he was a true friend- ready to risk his life for others, putting up with them immediately after meeting them. He knew Mike the shortest, but the deep voice that echoed from his phone brought back memories, not all bad, not all good. But Mike- Mike was  _ good.  _ The muddled memories and voices led him to that.

_ “Glad I got to meet you before you died.”  _ Rich. Richie. Tozier. Richie Tozier. The loudmouth, trashmouth. A curly haired boy, barely taller than him. Coke bottle glasses and graphic t shirts. Richie didn’t have a way with words, not in a kind sense. But he always knew how to make the others laugh, cheer them up, crack jokes that lightened the mood one way or another. Who knew famous comedian ‘Richie Trashmouth Tozier’ used to be a childhood best friend from Derry, Maine? 

_ “No. When I say that, you’re supposed to say, “After a while, crocodile.” ‘  _ Eddie Kaspbrak. A firecracker. A small boy with apparent illnesses that could make up a novel. But he never let them deter him. Eddie was...hot headed, determined- that’s a word for it. He remembers loogie contests, one on top of the cliff, at the barrens. Eddie and Richie’s bickering. 

_ “Leave!”  _ Their fearless leader. Maybe fearless wasn’t the word, he was terrified, they all had been. But, Bill. Bill had been the most ready to dive into anything and everything, leading the others with pep talks and strong, determined words. Bill Denbrough, William Denbrough, the famous horror author. Ben couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, running a hand over his face, knee bouncing some.

_ “Hang tough new kid.”  _ Beverly Marsh.. He never forgot her name, not really. She was the first girl to ever be kind to him, without pity weaving its way into her voice as she spoke. She teased him, small jokes she knew none of the others would get. Fiery red hair, and an even more fiery personality. The only one to sign his yearbook, the kindest, strongest and most amazing person he’s ever met.

He sighed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. The airport was quieter than normal, it was late, most flights had taken off or were boarding. Him and a few other stragglers were seated, waiting to head on their way as others were grabbing coffee or food. Ben doesn’t think he could eat, couldn’t stomach anything. A young woman and her two kids walked near him, and the smallest girl sat on a seat across from him.

She was staring.

He gave her an awkward smile, silently hoping that they wouldn’t be boarding  _ his  _ plane. But based on how this day was already unfolding, that seems to be how it was going. The mom was talking in hushed tones to her older daughter, who looked to be half asleep and not happy to be there.

“Where are you goin?” He turned his attention back to the small girl, head tilted and pigtails falling into her eyes- but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Uhh, I’m flying back...somewhere. Uh, home.” Home didn’t sound like the right word- it never  _ felt  _ like home, Derry was a cold and scary place.

“You’re flyin home? You don’t live at home?” Her eyebrows furrowed and he couldn’t help but quietly laugh.

“No no, I moved here when I was a teenager with my mommy.”

She made an ‘O’ shape with her mouth, nodding her head. “I live with my mommies, and my sister.” She pointed to the woman and her older sister, the later who was practically begging her mom to allow her to order coffee, “My sister’s name is Aiden,  _ I’m  _ Winter! But I was born in the summer- mama says it’s funny. I don’t think it’s funny- I shoulda been named Summer. Or Leia.”

“Leia? Like Princess Leia from Star Wars?” He could feel the tension leaving as the little girl chattered a way, not a care in the world.

Her older sister- Aiden- had given up on trying to get coffee and opted for a small soda, and her mom sat next to her, sending a soft smile towards Ben as her daughter kept them both entertained with her thoughts.

“Yeah! She’s awesome- plus she had a twin brother  _ and  _ got to hang out with Chewbacca. And Han Solo I guess. He’s cool. Mommy why don’t I have a twin brother?”

Her mom let out a startled laugh, “Well because when you were born you just...weren’t born with a twin brother?”

Winter shrugged, seemingly satisfied with the answer she was given, turning her attention back to Ben. “Do you like Star Wars? Mama does too-  _ she  _ says her favorite is Princess Leia! Mommy and Aiden like Disney movies more- and I like Disney movies too. I love  _ Princess and the Frog _ and  _ Mulan _ ! I went as a frog with a tiara for Halloween! Do you like Disney movies?”

“Uh, yeah I like Star Wars. And Disney movies. I used to have this friend and she- she kind of reminds me of Ariel.” Where did that come from? “She used to have long red hair, and she was...She was like Ariel.” Her mom sent him a sad look, and he realized his talking probably made it sound like she had passed away.

She could have and Ben wouldn’t have known.

Before Mike called his memories of a “Beverly Marsh” were of red hair, green eyes that sparkled like a gem, a short poem, New Kids on the Block. He never thought past it, really. Until today.

“Aiden wants to be a princess. She likes the ball gowns- and the princes. But she won’t kiss a frog. I tell her that she  _ has  _ to try to find a prince that way!” She leaned closer, lowering her voice, “But I just wanna see her kiss a yucky frog.”

Ben laughed, tightness in his chest that had been building stopping momentarily, but as overhead the voice broke through, calling his flight it started again.

“That’s- that’s my flight.” He smiled at the two, “I gotta get going.”

“Bye Mr! It was nice meeting you!” 

“Ben,” He put his hand out and she got excited, shaking it with vigor, “Ben Hanscom. It was nice meeting you too.”

“Bye Mr. Ben!”

Her mom whispered, “Tell him to have a safe flight.”

“Have a safe flight Mr. Ben! I liked you!”

He chuckled, grabbing his small bag and walking away, feeling the dred that had left come back, hitting him harder than before, like a freight train running him over. 

The flight wasn’t what he was worried about. The aftermath, however, was. 

///

This was dumb.

No, this was beyond dumb.

It was insane. Psychotic. Barking mad. She felt almost unhinged, sanity hanging by a thread. She gripped the edges of her hair and pulled slightly.

She smashed a photo over Tom’s head.

A small laugh.

She kicked Tom in the face.

She looked up, meeting her own reflection in the bathroom mirror as she stared with uncertainty and worry. It was almost instinct, she knew she needed to get back to Derry. And here she was.

Standing in her small bathroom of the Derry Inn, rooms booked one by one as she heard random bursts of movement before total silence. She can’t believe she’s here.

Back again. 

Shaking her head she walked from her bathroom to the bed, sitting on the edge and just staring off into space. Her mouth felt bitter from the coffee she grabbed right after getting here, grabbing a small from a local diner- a place she used to visit every weekend but completely forgot about.

She felt horrible. The owner still remembered her, face lighting up as he saw her.

_ “Well if it isn’t little Beverly Marsh as I live and breath!” The old man behind the counter beamed at her, “Look at you! All grown up!” He was shaky, voice soft from age and she felt warm, sending him a timid smile back. _

_ “Here in the flesh, sir.” She smiled, walking over to the counter as a young boy moved out of her way, black curls bouncing some as he swayed back and forth on his feet.  _

_ The man moved closer to the cash register, slowly but with excitement, “How are you doing honey? Oh I haven’t seen you in years- how old are you now? 25?” The teasing to his voice made her laugh. _

_ “Uh, no.” She brushed some hair from her eyes, “Turned 40 this year.” _

_ “Oh! The big four zero! Look at you!” He sighed, “It seems just yesterday you and your friends would come in the afternoons- try and convince me to give you all cups of coffee!” He laughed, and she distinctly remembered trying to get as much caffeine as she was allowed as a teen, “You all would wear me down but I gave you all decaf! I’d seen you and the boys on your bikes- you youth had so much energy to ya!” _

_ She smiled, part of her felt awkward- this man had so many memories of her, but she was coming up on a blank with him. Yet another part, a much larger part, felt comfort. Safe. Warm. At home. And Derry was a not a place she ever really considered home. _

_ “You changed your coffee order over the years girl?” _

_ “Uh, not that I’m aware of.” _

_ He nodded, “Alright. I’ll get right on it!” _

_ “How much do I- “ _

_ He waved a hand. “It’s on the house! And you,” He pointed to the young man who had stepped out of Bev’s way, “Atley if you want coffee you make it yourself. You work here- you know the place better than I do!” _

_ The kid- Atley- frowned, though she could sense the playfulness behind it. “Oh come on Mr. T! I’ve had a long shift!” _

_ “You haven’t even- what’s the word? Clocked in yet boy!” Atley grinned. _

_ “You caught me, señor ten piedad, you’re getting to smart for me!” _

_ “If I was smarter I’d become fluent in Spanish! Learn what you’re saying behind my back.” _

_ Atley rolled his eyes, sending a small smile towards Bev which she returned, “I only say good things Mr. T. And I can teach you Spanish if you want.” _

_ “Eh, too old to teach this dog a new trick. Anyway- Mrs. Beverly, here is your coffee! How long are you in town?” _

_ She took the to go cup with a small thank you, watching the young boy head behind the counter. “I’m not sure, a few days? A week?” _

_ “Ah well, you come back and visit old Mr. T before you leave! I’ll help you sneak a whole thing of coffee onto your plane!” _

The coffee had been better than anything she’d ever had, and she’s been to almost every coffee shop in NYC. But this cup hadn’t been like her normal order- it was sweet and smooth, hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. Mr. T knew her apparently better than she knew herself.

She had a feeling with Derry that was going to be a common theme. 

She knew herself better than any damn person in the world.

Sometimes she felt like nobody knew her, however.

Romona glared at her closet. Dresses upon dresses upon skirts upons blouses hung from her racks, organized by color and shade- according to her mother this was the best way for it to be organized. It was a relaxing day- she just wanted to  _ relax _ . With sweats and a t-shirt.

But even at home she had to keep up an image.  _ For who?  _ Mom and dad.

Keep them happy with you. Be the perfect daughter, the strong, smart, independent girl who is the spitting image of her Aunty B. She shut the closet, grumbling to herself, fingers absentmindedly brushing over the small hair bow passed down to her.

Stupid Aunt B.

A perfect daughter, a perfect sister, taken too soon, and brought back through her own niece- a beautiful Romona. 

Her life was some weird horror story- the ones where the replacement child is the spitting image of her dead sibling/parent/aunt/uncle, and then they die tragically. 

No thank you. 

She heard her mom and dad from downstairs, her dad on the phone still and her mom calling up to her. “Baby! What? Yes, hold on. Baby, come down here please!”

Romona sighed, grabbing a cardigan from her pile of them- seriously, how many does she need?

“Hai mama, I’ll be down in a moment!”

She did  _ not  _ want to go down. She knew what the topic of this conversation would be- as it had  _ only  _ been that for about a month. Dad was having a business dinner at theirs on the 25th, and she was expected to help her dad cook dinner and her mom bake. Issue there was Romona was horrible in the kitchen, and everyone knew it. She’d been “training” for a while, and poisoning her friends with her cooking.

_ “So? How is it?” She didn’t expect it to be good, but the look on Harriet, Atley, and Nadia’s faces was hilarious. _

_ “It’s- um, well.” Nadia coughed, cheeks puffed up as she refused to swallow. _

_ “What was it again?” She fixed her gaze on Atley, “Chicken noodle soup.” _

_ “Is it supposed to be this  _ chunky?! _ ” Harriet spat it out into the sink, “Fuck am I gonna get solmonella?” _

But time was coming close and they had other things to discuss. Specifically, wardrobe.

Mom had a blue jumpsuit, accented with golden designs. Her father had a new button up, same shade of blue with golden cufflinks to match mom’s outfit. Romona had to crack down on a decision- choose one from fifteen options. Four dresses, three long jumpsuits, two short rompers, and five options of blouses with pants. 

The extent her family went through drove her insane.

She moved from her room, stepping quietly and slowly down the hall. All their halls were littered with pictures- old family holidays, mom’s family from Iowa and Derry, dad’s family back in Japan. Several collages were just of her- throughout her life, different activities. Band, orchestra, mathletes, horseback riding. A few awkward dance photos hung with them, her and her friends all posed together awkwardly, but their smiles were wide and genuine.

The picture in the middle of the hall, though, was of her aunt. Aunty B, Bee, BeBe. Whatever pet name her mom wanted her to call her. An old photo, aged with time but safely preserved behind glass. She remembers being terrified of it as a kid. She used to love it, get so excited over how much she looked like her aunt. Then her mom told her what happened to her, what Romona was  _ seven.  _

Ever since then she was terrified. The eyes looked like they were staring into her soul. A deep brown, just like hers.

Expect the eyes in the photo weren’t brown.

Not right now.

She squinted her own eyes, blinking to see if there was fuzz in her vision, or if it was a trick of the light. But the eyes blinked back at her. 

Her face remained impassive. This wasn’t happening.

Pictures like this don’t just  _ blink  _ at people. No matter how many scary stories she read, that was never something that she thought twice of. Until now.

“Poor, poor Romona.” The picture was talking to her now.

She took a step back, hand behind her brushing the opposite hall wall. “Trying  _ so  _ hard to be the replacement for your dead aunty. To make mommy and grandma happy, right? That’s why you do whatever they say.” The picture began imitating her mother, “ ‘Oh but Aunty Bee  _ loved  _ calligraphy! She was so good! And little Romona here, only eight, but picking up where her aunt left off!’ It’s sickening.”

The voice became deeper, almost demented sounding. Okay, so option one- her aunt’s photo was haunted by a demon or ghost of her aunt.

“They try so hard to replace me Romona, with you. Try  _ so  _ hard to make you  _ perfect.  _ Oh but you’re  _ far  _ from it.” She began to cackle, “Wittle Womona who wants to become an English professor. Romona who wants to cut off all her hair and quit all her activities and clubs! You’re too hot headed, reckless and stupid!  _ Nothing  _ like me! You make too many mistakes don’t you know?  _ I  _ was perfect, and that’s what your mom needs! That’s what your  _ friends  _ need Romona! Why, Romona! Don’t you know you’re breaking your mama’s heart?!”

“I- I- “

Her aunt shook her head at Romona, eyes gleaming a silvery yellow. “Pathetic. You’re pathetic. Imperfect, useless. A let down to your family! I’m glad I’m dead- glad I didn’t have to meet the niece who shares my features! But is  _ nothing  _ like me!” She began cackling, “But if you hold  _ real  _ still RoRo, we can trade places. I’ll use your body, and  _ you  _ can be stuck here! Staring out into a world of darkness and nothing!”

She hit the wall with her back and slid away, feet faster than the rest of her body as she ran down the hall, not sure if the laughter was still there or only echoing through her head. She made it to the bottom of the stairs, tripping and falling to her knees. She took a moment there, pausing.

The hallway picture just spoke to her. The picture of her dead aunt just spoke to her, and threatened her?

“ Pīpoddo? You alright?” She heard her dad’s voice and snapped her head up.

“Uh,” No, no dad, I’m not alright, “Y-Yeah?”

She stood slowly, knees cracking as she straightened her legs, walking into the living room. Her father was off the phone now, browsing on his laptop as her mom talked passionately on her cell, hands flying around as she spoke.

“I’m telling you mom- you should  _ see  _ her latest piece! It’s amazing! The raw emotion behind it- it practically  _ sings!”  _ Oh, mom was on the phone with grandma- discussing Romona’s latest ‘hobby’.

Painting. Something her mom and aunt used to do when they were kids. Something Romona hated. The newest piece was nothing more than Romona grabbing a brush and blindly dipping it in paint, before just kind of...hitting the canvas. The only emotion behind it was boredom. 

“Romona, come here- I need you to pick which outfit you want for dinner. I need to have it ordered and shipped- that way you can try it on and we can get it tailored or sent back if need be.”

“I- uh- “

“Oh and she’s doing so well at her classes! No mom I know, but when she finishes her gen ed classes here she’ll move onto a big four year school! There’s nothing wrong with community college- no I know  _ I  _ didn’t do that, but I- I feel like Bee would have appreciated the thought of it.” Her mom trailed off and she felt like screaming.

_ “I was perfect!” _

Her mom wasn’t thrilled about her going to the local community college instead of diving into a four year school- but that’s what  _ she  _ wanted to do. The “compromise” was that Romona attended Bowdoin College- where her mom went, where her aunt was  _ supposed  _ to go. 

She felt like screaming.

Her mother’s chattering and her dad’s fingers typing was all becoming too loud.

“Romona? I need an answer.”

“The uh- “

“Oh but you should see her with that boy- oh what’s his name? Darling- what’s her little friends name?”

“Which one?” Her dad mumbled, hardly paying attention, “There’s like...six of them.”

“The cute one.”

The cute one? Her dad looked up. “The cute one?”

“Ah! Atley! You should see her and Atley! So adorable together! They would make such a cute pair- but RoRo says she’s not interested in him!” She lowered her voice, “But I have my doubts.”

“Romona I will pick for you and you  _ know  _ I’m not good with fashion.”

“The uh- uh blue one!”

She was sweating, heart basically trembling in her chest.

_ “Imperfect!” _

“Ropon, they’re  _ all  _ blue.”

“Uh the um, the dress- no the romper- with the pockets.”

The chattering was mixing with the typing and she felt like her brain was going to explode. She couldn’t focus or think or feel. “You pick a romper dad!” She managed to get that out, dashing towards the door before stepping outside, pulling her sandals on and speed walking down the sidewalk.

She needed to clear her head. 

Mila couldn’t think.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Her feet swung back and forth as she sat on the old swing, praying that it didn’t give out or break at any point. If it did, would that be bad though?

She shook her head. Yes, yes it  _ would  _ be Mila. Because you would get hurt, and then you’d be in a bed like Aunt Anne, and then you’d be-

You’d be-

She shook her head. No.

Whatever happened at home didn’t really happen.

It couldn’t.

It didn’t.

She really didn’t want to think right now.

_ “How’s it feel? Seeing what you’ll become.” _

“I won’t become that,” She spoke out loud, startling herself, but the message and indication didn’t waver.

“I won’t.” 

She scratched at her eyebrow, messing with the end of one of her braids. 

The cool breeze was a comfort, and she kicked her legs out some, barely getting the swing going. Just to prove she could still move them normally.

Her feet hit the ground loudly, sand getting into the small holes in her sneakers.

She shook her head.

It had happened, it did, she wishes she wasn’t admitting that but she was. Her thoughts were confusing herself. But she was sure of one thing.

Whatever it was that happened earlier- that wasn’t normal. And it wasn’t  _ good.  _

And her gut told her that, it wasn’t a one time thing. It was just the beginning of something.

Something that would haunt her memories for the rest of her life. 

Memory.

It’s a funny thing.

Mike sometimes wishes he had done what his friends had, and left. Left all the bad behind- the memories included. But he didn’t- he knew he couldn’t. He knew It would come back, and he knew something bad would happen if they  _ all  _ left.

He was mostly right.

The losers had kept close tabs on each other the first few months after moving. Managing to call whenever they could, sending letters every week. Mike still held onto those, but as time went on, the calls stopped as did the letters.

Mike’s fear had come true- the others had forgotten.

He sometimes woke up from nightmares dazed and confused, wondering who the people in his dreams were before nearly crying as he had to remind himself of his friends- Stan, Bill, Ben, Bev, Richie, Eddie.

_ “Welcome to the losers club homeschool!” _

The losers club, their little club. The first kids to accept and defend him. His friends, his family.

He misses them. He wishes they had remembered him, remembered what happened. But he’s glad they were spared- able to move on with their lives and become successful.

Until now.

A repeat. 

27 years later. It came back. The body toll was only beginning, and Mike feared the worst.

But as he waited with anticipation, as he waited for the inevitable, he for once wasn’t sure. About what would happen. About how his friends would react- if they would stay and help, or leave and go home. 

He could only hope.

But unlike in 1989, he fears the hope wouldn’t help them this time. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought the adults were disasters by themselves- wait until they meet the others.

Alexa sighed, drumming her fingers along the steering wheel of her car. She had texted Harriet about a minute or two ago, and sat idle in the driveway, music turned on low as she waited. Right as she grabbed her phone to send another text, the front door opened, and out came a disheveled Harriet, wavy hair just barely dry from a shower, purple floral dress she bought almost a year ago that Alexa was  _ just  _ not seeing her in, a white cardigan in hand, and those stupid leggings she wore under dresses and skirts. 

She locked the door, booking it to Alexa’s car and just then did she see that Harriet was holding two bags- one was Mila’s birthday gift and the other was her small makeup bag. As she opened the passenger door she paused, being leveled with Alexa’s raised eyebrow. 

“What?”

“You texted me three hours ago saying you were gonna start getting ready,” Harriet rolled her eyes, all but jumping into the car, slamming the door shut, “Yet you look like you  _ just  _ got dressed and you’re bringing your makeup into my car.”

“I got distracted.” Harriet shrugged, tugging on her seatbelt to ensure it was locked, before pulling down the visor, opening it to the mirror.

“By  _ what _ ?”

Harriet motioned to the steering wheel while rummaging through her bag, “Shut up and drive woman!”

With an exasperated eye roll Alexa put her car into reverse, backing out of the driveway carefully. The drive to the Jade was only about ten minutes, fifteen with bad traffic. Life in a small town meant everything was relatively close.

“Why didn’t you just go with your parents?” Alexa glanced over as she stopped at a stop sign, seeing Harriet applying eyebrow gel- liner? Alexa doesn’t do as much makeup as Harriet- and she saw a flash of gold, seeing her glasses hanging on her dress, “Glasses?”

“Driving with you is much more fun than my parents, and Dean, and Justin, and Sarah. She’s got a new best friend she hasn’t shut up about,” She paused, mouth falling open at an awkward angle as she curled her lashes as quick and safe as she could, “Besides I like riding with you better.”

Alexa felt a soft smile tug at her lips, turning out of the neighborhood, and her chest felt a bit warmer than before. “And  _ yes,  _ glasses. My contacts were like...burning my eyes. Besides, the glasses make me look smart.”

She snorted, “Yeah,  _ look  _ smart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean Lexi?”

“God I hate that nickname,” She spoke, scrunching up her nose at the stupid, sorority sounding nickname, “And you  _ know  _ what I mean dumbass. Hurry up you have like, less than ten minutes.”

“ _ Fuck _ !” Harriet dropped the curler back into her bag, bringing out a small eyeshadow pallet, applying some glittery pink to her lids, before attempting to get the remainder off her finger pads.

“I need to learn time management.” She mumbled under her breath, and Alexa laughed softly.

“So what’d you get Mila?” 

She glanced at Harriet again, enjoying the stupid faces she pulled when applying mascara, her mouth wide open and eyes about the size of a dinner plate. “A gift that’s gonna knock all of yours out of the water- that’s for sure.”

Rolling her eyes, Alexa pulled into the parking lot, finding a spot two over from Romona’s car, and parking. Harriet was applying her blush quickly, and at the pace she was going at she looked like she was stabbing her face more than brushing against it. Alexa couldn’t help but watch her, the scrambling as she tried to finish her look before they headed in. 

Alexa never understood the appeal of makeup. Well, she did. She enjoyed doing fun eye makeup from time to time, she liked playfully colored lipsticks. But Harriet was so naturally pretty and vibrant, she didn’t  _ need  _ foundation and blush and contour to look good. She was one of the lucky ones from the group, her acne days were short and quick lived. 

“Hey, take a picture it’ll last longer.” She was snapped from her staring, had she been staring?

To cover up the warmth on her face she rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone from where it was laying. “And waste storage? No thanks.”

Harriet let out a loud, bark of a laugh, covering her nose some as she shoved her makeup back into her small bag. “Done, how do I look?”

Alexa studied her face, the soft smile, and overall pink look she had gone with. “Pink.”

She rolled her eyes, “Thanks.” She threw her bag to the ground, grabbing Mila’s gift, her phone, and wallet, shoving her wallet into her bra, and holding her phone and bag. “What’d you get Mila?”

Alexa opened the door, stepping out as Harriet did the same on the other side. “Got her a comic page coloring book, she had mentioned seeing it before and thinking it was cool. Plus some of those fancy markers she and you like, fucking artists you two.” Harriet laughed, running a finger through her hair, “And then a book of old poems, it’s not a first edition but it is  _ old,  _ and it looks cool, so I figured she’d like it.”

Harriet was quiet for a moment, “If she ends up liking your gifts more than mine we’re fighting.”

Alexa snorted, as the two walked slowly across the parking lot to the entrance door. A thought that had plagued her the night before, came back into her head, and it caused her to pause. Harriet noticed, slowing her steps to almost a stop.

“You good?”

Looking up from the ground, she doesn’t even know when she ended up head bowed, she made eye contact with Harriet. “You heard about that guy, Adrian Mellon, right?”

Harriet’s face fell, eyes sad, and almost far away. “Yeah...Mom and dad told me, poor dude.”

Alexa studied Harriet’s body language, the news hit almost everyone, and for the most part it seemed only the youth was truly upset by this news. It was depressing, angering. But the way Harriet stood made her look almost on edge, as if her sadness was mixed with some form of fear and apprehension. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” Harriet blinked a few times, shooting Alexa a confused look, “Of...hate crimes, I guess?”

“I mean, it’s the 21st century,” She shrugged, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist, “I’m afraid of just more than hate crimes. You see who's running for president?” She tried joking, nudging Alexa’s side, but she stayed serious.

“I’m serious, Harriet.” Her smile dropped, “We live in a small, fucking backwards town. You’re one of the few who’s so openly bi - “

“Romona and Nadia are bi, and Mila’s gay, Alexa, I’m not the only one who - “

“I know I know! But you’re the only one who’s so  _ open  _ about it! You talk about girl crushes as much as crushes on guys and - “

“Girl crushes?! They’re just  _ crushes,  _ Alexa!”

“I know that!” Alexa was growing frustrated, this conversation was  _ not  _ going where she had wanted it to. “I’m just saying- you need to be careful!”

Harriet rolled her eyes once more, this time though, Alexa could feel the malice and anger from it, “Oh be careful? I’ll be  _ careful  _ alright. Hey, why talk about my crush on Natalie Portman or Wonder Woman when I can talk about wanting to bang some guy and everyone’ll be happy!” Her voice grew shrill as she talked, hands flying around, bag crinkling in her hand, “You know, if you have a problem with it you can just tell me, right? Not pussyfoot around the topic!”

“I do  _ not  _ have a problem with it Harriet, you know that!” Her voice grew soft at the end, eyes hurt and hand moving to touch her arm. 

“Yeah well, you used to bring up if I was afraid of going to hell because of my  _ choices,  _ now you’re telling me to tone down my pride.” Alexa’s mouth fell open, brain unable to come up with a reply, “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

She walked forward, moving quicker than before and Alexa had to speed walk to keep up. Nothing else was said between the two, and Alexa could feel her heart sinking. She really put her foot in her mouth, didn’t she? She only wanted Harriet to be safe, she used to be the victim of bullies in high school, so unashamed in discussing her crushes and sexuality. Her happiness gave her away, made her the target for slurs and harsh words.

As the two made it to their table, she realized they were the last two there. Two empty seats on one side of the table stood next to each other, for her and Harriet. Harriet, however, moved to where Presley was sitting next to Dean. “Alright young man, move it or lose it.”

Presley looked up at her, squinting his eyes. “What?”

“Let me sit next to my little brother dumby!” She playfully shoved him and he grumbled, but stood, moving to sit at one of the empty seats. “Hello Dean the bean.”

Dean pouted at her, “Why do you call me that?”

“Why! Cause you’re my little bean, Dean!” He laughed as she threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug.

Alexa sat between Presley and Romona, who both gave her a confused look. The two of them always sat by each other, the others had learned quickly not to sit between them unless you want to be leaned over and shoved. 

“Mila! My girl!” Harriet was covering up the argument that happened outside, being loud and obnoxious on purpose, and with a sinking in her stomach Alexa realized what happened outside really hurt her. “Happy birthday! Welcome to the rest of your life, you’re no longer a teenager!”

Mila rolled her eyes but smiled, “Thanks Harry.”

Harriet’s mom ruffled her hair, “Almost thought you two weren’t going to make it.”

“And give you two more incentive to replace me with one of the other girls? Don’t think so mama!” 

The waitress came to their table, getting the two new girls drink orders, Dr. Pepper and Sprite. Mila told the others of her morning, her mom waking her up with breakfast pancakes with twenty candles, which resulted in her top pancake being covered in wax and basically inedible. 

“Aw that’s sweet though.” Nadia spoke, stabbing her chicken with a fork.

“I mean it was, but it was kind of gross to watch happen.” 

Dean got excited, “But did you eat the wax? What did it taste like?”

“No I didn’t eat the wax, wax probably tastes gross De.”

“But you didn’t eat it so you wouldn’t know!”

“He makes a good point,” Atley slung an arm over Mila’s shoulders, “You’ll never know unless you try.”

“If you want to eat a candle be my guest.” Atley retracted his arm, “Yeah, thought so.”

The night went on without a hitch, the table alive with chatter and laughter. At one point, towards the end of the night, Harriet moved to stand. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom real quick.”

“Oh, I - “

“Romona!” Harriet interrupted Alexa, startling the long haired girl who had a mouthful of noodles, “Come with me?”

Romona was a sight, eyes wide and lo mein hanging from her lips- she swallowed, coughing some as she stood, “Sure?”

“Great!” The two walked off, leaving a confused table, and a slightly hurt Alexa. 

The conversations slowly picked back up, and Alexa sighed, feeling deflated. Nadia moved to Romona’s seat, leaving Atley by himself talking quietly with Mila. 

“Everything okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

Presley tuned in, “Well Harriet seems...upset. Did something happen on the way here?”

“Nothing happened on the way here,” Alexa took a long sip from her drink, “Maybe something happened at home? Who knows.”

She could feel them share a look over her. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright…”

“Are  _ you  _ okay?” Presley asked, and Alexa paused.

Was she okay? She was fine. “I’m fine.” The smallness in her voice counteracted that statement.

“You know, you can talk to us right?” She nodded, resting her bottom lip against her glass, eyes unfocused as she stared forward.

Mila’s laughter brought her back into the present, and she watched as she and Sarah laughed over something on Sarah’s phone. “Later.” 

The two nodded, and Nadia slowly made her way back to her seat. Slowly, Alexa rejoined in small conversations.

In the back of the restaurant, Harriet was washing her hands, scrubbing in an effort to get the eyeshadow stain off of her fingers as Romona stood near her.

“Is everything o - “

“Everything’s fine Romona, peachy keen!” 

Romona looked unconvinced, and Harriet sighed. “Alexa and I had an...altercation outside.”

“Uh oh, lovers quarrel!” Romona jokes, but upon seeing the serious look on Harriet’s face she paused, “Wait, like a bad one?”

“She basically told me I needed to hide my pride.” Upon seeing Romona’s confused face she continued, “She brought up Adrian Mellon, the guy that was killed? Hate crime.” Romona made an understanding face, “I dunno she just...made it sound like she was uncomfortable with it. With, me.”

“Hey, you know she isn’t.” Romona put a hand on her shoulder, “She loves all of us, you as well. She was so supportive when you came out to us,” To prove her point she tugged on the woven bracelet on Harriet’s wrist, a small item Alexa made her in eighth grade after she came out, patterned in bi colors.

“Yeah I know but,” She ran a damp hand through her hair, “She used to ask me about my fear of damnation or if I married someone who didn’t want kids- because God forbid I don’t want kids- or if I made the decision myself. She never brought this shit up to you all.” Romona stayed quiet, Alexa never did speak to her or the others on these topics.

“Yeah, it’s whatever. I just need to chill, and we’ll be fine.” She pulled out her lip gloss from her bra, uncapping it.

Romona studied her for a moment, “I’m gonna head back, you okay?”

She nodded, and watched in the mirror as Romona left. She waited a few seconds, before sighing, capping her gloss and shoving it back into her bra. She looked herself over, readjusting her cardigan before shaking her hands out. Time to go back.

The restaurant, surprisingly, wasn’t too crowded today, for a Saturday in the beginning of August. She took her time walking back, studying the tables and the families there. She saw a few familiar faces, and she smiled and waved as they did to her.

Loud voices caught her attention, and she turned, seeing one of the other private tables, smaller than hers, but looking in she saw there were only six at that table, compared to the twelve at her table. The adults there were loud and laughing at something, what she wasn’t sure of. She recognized one, the librarian, Mike, that was Alexa’s boss. 

Harriet didn’t know he had friends.

Her steps slowed down, but she stood off to the side, trying not to look creepy. She lived in a small town, everyone knew everyone, or at least recognized them. Hell, Mr. Keene ran the the pharmacy and looks to have done so since dinosaurs roamed the earth. However, she did  _ not  _ recognize any of these adults, well, other than Mike. One guy caught her eye, and she felt her face grow a bit warm.

Oh he was handsome. He was  _ hot.  _ She continued looking around, and paused on one. Now  _ he  _ looked familiar. Why did he look familiar?

Tilting her head, her eyes went wide. Oh.  _ Oh… _

The handsome guy, Mr. Hottie, of God she sounded creepy, looked up, and for a moment they made eye contact. For a brief second she swore he looked a bit panicked, but as her face went pink, she sent him a small smile and wave, and he nodded at her, face relaxing into a grin. She hurried back to her table, embarrassed from being caught.

But now she was on a mission. 

She all but threw herself into her chair, draping herself over Dean who let out a yell, trying to push her off of him. “Oh Dean!”

The rest of the table quieted down, looking at her.

“What’d you do, fall in?” Presley joked. 

“Ha, you wish. But no,” She turned to Dean, who was glaring at her, “On the walk back, I was taking my time. Minding my own business - “

“Fat chance.”

“Shush,” She playfully glared at Nadia, “And I heard something. Loud voices,”

“We’re in a restaurant.” 

“And my curiosity was peaked! I looked into one of the other reserved rooms, and there were a bunch of adults. Alexa, your boss was there, and he apparently has friends. Anyway, I  _ saw  _ someone, someone you adore Deanie.”

He looked at her, confused, as did the others. She sighed. “He’s your idol!”

Nothing. 

“Oh my- I know his bits because of how often you watch his Netflix specials, and stuff on YouTube. I’m not a fan of like, anything of his, but  _ you  _ love his stuff, think he’s the best comedian ever.”

She watched with a small smile as his face grew into understanding, eyes wide. “Richie Tozier is  _ here _ ?!”

“Yup! And is apparently friends with our local librarian. Anyway, they looked like they were finishing up, the waitress just brought them their fortune cookies when I was leaving, so if we’re lucky maybe we can catch him as we leave.”

Dean was bouncing in his seat by now, eyes wide and mouth grinning so wide. 

“Mom! Mom! Can we? I wanna meet him so bad!”

Their mom laughed softly, “Baby, Mila hasn’t opened her gifts yet, and - “

“It’s fine Mrs. P,” Mila spoke, “I’ll open them tonight, I’m fine if we leave soon.”

Dean was wiggling now, “Oh my God this is so great!”

“Why is he in  _ Derry  _ of all places?” Nadia asked, and Mila rolled her eyes.

“He’s from here.”

“He  _ is _ ?” 

“Yeah, it was in some article. We had several people from here go and make big names for themselves. He was the only one I recognized, that and Marsh. But that I only know because my mom would  _ kill  _ for one of her dresses.”

“Also you do  _ not  _ hate all of his stuff dumbaaaaaaa-dumby.” Atley caught himself, eyes wide as he stared at Harriet’s siblings.

“Nice save.”

“Thanks. Anyway, you liked his stuff on SNL.”

“What stuff?”

“Uh, well he was the one who was easiest to break, he was Stefon, and - “

“He was  _ Stefon _ ?!”

“Yeah,” The look on his face said she was supposed to know this.

Dean grabbed her arm, “Harriet, Harriet! What if he talks about us in his next stand up bit?”

“Why would he talk about us?”

“Cause I’m an adorable kid who’s a fan of his!”

“You’re also cocky.” She rolled her eyes, ruffling his curls. 

As the waitress brought their fortune cookies she grabbed two, feigning that she was going to keep one from Dean before handing him his cookie. She paused, hearing some sort of commotion from some other part of the restaurant. She saw her friends pause; Mila’s eyebrows furrowing; Atley tilting his head, ear closer to the entrance; Romona only looked around at the others, a confused look on her face; Alexa wrinkled her nose, she hated big, public scenes; Nadia and Presley exchanged worried looks. A few seconds later Harriet made an understanding face. Some baby was crying,  _ screaming  _ more like.

Sounded like a young baby, probably new parents who were freaking out. She shrugged, and shook her head at her friends, who all slowly relaxed. Cracking her cookie open she read her fortune to herself.

_ To hide oneself is to deny oneself; be free. _

Rolling her eyes she crumbled it, dropping it onto her plate. “I’m ready!”

Her mom gave her an exasperated look, “You do  _ not  _ need to be louder than whatever commotion is going on.” 

“Oh c’mon mom, if I can’t be more dramatic than new parents who am I?”

“New parents?” Harriet stood, grabbing Mila’s gift as the rest of the table stood, her mom grabbing Justin who was swinging his sippy cup around.

“Yeah, the baby was screaming.”

“You heard a baby?”

“Yeah, you didn’t?” Her mom looked confused, and she was sure she did as well.

“No, guess my hearings going.”

“That it is old lady.” She ran, dodging her mom’s playful swing as she all but jumped onto Presley’s back.

The group made their way to the front, her dad holding the bill in his hand along with his wallet. They made their way past the buffet, and near the opening to the private table where Richie and his friends had been seated. 

“Dean,” She leaned down to whisper, “He was in there.”

Dean’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Can you take a picture of us when I meet him?”

“Course little dude!”

The group stood, chattering with themselves as Harriet’s dad was talking with the hostess, paying for the group dinner. Mila watched with a slightly confused look on her face, as the waitress made her way from the room, looking disheveled and slightly frustrated. Tilting her head, she craned her neck, trying to peek into the room. She only saw a few people, some tall, buff guy having an arm around someone else, a shorter guy in a red jacket. They looked...terrified. What happened?

Dean sucked in a breath, and elbowed whoever was nearest to him, which happened to be Harriet and Mila. “He’s coming out he’s coming out!” He subtly pointed, and sure enough, the six that had been in the room were walking out.

Presley studied them for a moment before nodding to himself, “Six.”

“Hey divide our group in half and you have six, six, six!” Harriet wrapped her arm around his waist, and he glared down at her.

“Really?”

“Yeah man, all together we’re the devil.” He huffed, shaking her arm off of him, though she could see the smile on his lips. 

Got his mind off of it, perfect.

Dean tugged her sleeve- the group had paused by the entrance. Not very practical but okay. “Go for it little dude.”

He walked forward, sending her a worried look back, and she and the others sent him a mixture of thumbs ups and encouraging nods. He smiled, a shaky one, but turned, walking up to where Richie stood, his back to them. Atley pushed Harriet’s shoulder, whispering in her ear, “Remember I told you I saw someone new at Mr. T’s? The red head- that’s her.” 

She was going to respond before she saw Dean getting closer, and started to fumble with her phone, “Okay I need  _ all  _ possible angles on this! Go go go!” Her voice may have been joking but she was serious, and they knew, and all seven of them were pulling their phones out, ready to record and snap pictures of Dean meeting his idol.

He looked so short compared to him.

“Hey Richie!” Gain your confidence Dean!

Harriet watched as Richie paused, and she noticed him tense up as he turned. 

“How’d you uh- how’d you know my name?”

She and Romona exchanged a look. He was famous, even Harriet’s dad knew his name- sort of. He sometimes called him “Richard Tozier” or mixed him up with John Mulaney. He was trying.

“The fun’s just beginning, right?” 

She furrowed her eyebrows, mouthing ‘what’ at her friends. She received shrugs in response. “You think this is  _ funny _ ?” 

Dean took a small step back, and side glanced at her. “You think this is- is some sort of game?”

“What’s his problem?” Nadia muttered.

“Well fuck you!” Harriet stood up straight, hand holding the phone dropping to her side. 

He had reached forward, grabbing Dean by the arm, and she could hear her friends talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying, her face growing warm from anger.

“I’m not afraid of you!” She stormed forward, shoving her phone and gift at someone, getting to the group as Dean was talking to Richie, in a low, confused voice.

“The fun’s just beginning, the line from your act? I’m a fan dude!” Harriet grabbed Dean by the shoulders, pulling him away from Richie, who stood up straight, eyes wide as she leveled him with a glare.

“What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you?!”

“I- uh, this your- your sister?”

“ _ Yeah  _ I’m his sister, and who the  _ fuck  _ do you think you are grabbing my baby brother like that?!” He took a step back, and though he may have almost a foot on her, her glare was enough to take down Goliath.

“You guys want a picture?”

“Why the  _ hell  _ would we want a picture with you  _ now _ ?!” She had moved Dean behind her, and the others had walked over, Alexa taking his hand and pulling her towards him.

Richie looked both ashamed and terrified as this group of seven, young adults stared him down. “C’mon Rich,” Ben placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, sorry about that, he - “

“I really  _ don’t  _ want to hear it,” Harriet cut him off, turning her glare towards him, “Fucking celebrtities.” 

The eight moved back to where Thomas, Elizabeth, Sarah, and Justin were. The adults slowly made their way outside, and Richie felt his heart hammering in his chest.

“Jesus Rich you don’t remember the line from your own act?”

He sent a small glare towards Ben, “I don’t write my own material.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Had it been under different circumstances, Richie would have laughed, make a crack at Eddie, but the way his chest felt, his breath was just now settling, he couldn’t really think of anything to say. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on IG : aj.coses.that or ajsanartist 
> 
> Here is the concepts for the OCs btw: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1PecFNUUHHcl6MUcmAKsSRrZnuHLSpvrTr9slcmimS68/edit?usp=sharing


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven Upload Date: 2/3/2020

The losers were tired, and that was putting it lightly. The gravel beneath their feet was wet, branches waving around in the wind as the six of them made their way out of the Jade- Bill at the front of their group.

“Jesus Christ that was terrifying.” Richie mumbled, adjusting his glasses as the group came to a pause, not sure what else to say.

“Which part? The demonic fortune cookies, or you almost getting your ass kicked by a twenty year old?” Eddie snapped, and for a moment Richie felt offended, but upon looking at the others he got the tone- they were all on edge, after seeing what they saw, how else would they be?

“Speaking of cookies- what the hell was that?” Ben, sweet Ben, moved the conversation back to the important issue, the issue regarding why they were all back in Derry, all but…

“Stan…” Bev spoke his name softly, and she brushed away a tear as she remembered what the fortunes wrote out, “Mike, do you have his number?”

He nodded, fishing his phone from his pocket as Eddie began to pace back and forth, hands wringing some. 

“You should have told us Mike!” Eddie snapped, eyebrows furrowed as he paused by Richie and Mike, the later who had just read off Stan’s number to Bev, who stood a bit away, watching the group, finger hovering above ‘call’. 

“Yeah, first words out of your mouth should have been ‘Hey wanna come back to Derry and get murdered?’ Cause I woulda said no!” Eddie pointed at Richie over his shoulders, quickly walking a few feet away before turning back, fingers pulling at his bottom lip. 

Richie elbowed him as he got close enough, “C’mon man, don’t do that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay- kill a guy for trying to be nice huh?” 

Eddie turned to him, a small glare on his face. The two began bickering, Mike watching them, wishing he could revel in the simplicity of old times, the arguments between them never dying, regardless of time. Bev was staring at her phone, she needed to call, she  _ needed  _ to, but something was keeping her from hitting the button.

“ - telling you,  _ she’s  _ the one going crazy.”

Mike was vaguely aware of people coming out of the restaurant, voices growing louder as whoever it was made their way to the parking lot. He was more worried with the heightened tensions that Richie and Eddie’s banter would turn into a full fledged argument. 

“Not nice to say you’re mom’s goin’ crazy, Ettie.” 

“Shit, sorry At. But- you all heard it too right?”

“I’m sure the whole place heard them.”

Oh, this group was talking about  _ them.  _ With a small glance over his shoulder Mike felt his embarrassment mix with regret. It was the group of kids that had been there when Richie yelled at that kid- and his sister was talking animatedly. He turned back, seeing Bill and Ben shaking their heads at the other two, the bickering turning into short, quiet insults.

“Not  _ that.  _ I mean, the  _ baby. _ ” Mike froze where he stood, and the others did too, the words striking them still, “I mean that thing was  _ screaming.  _ Like the screams from one of our kids at work when they’re  _ hungry  _ hungry. And yet my mom- world class worrier- didn’t hear- woah!” 

Mike may have been closer, but his mind was moving too quick for him to physically move.  _ They  _ heard what only the losers should have been able to. They heard one of Pennywise’s illusions, something nothing other than the victims could see. So-

Richie acted first. He reached blindly, shoving Mike and Eddie some as he shot forward, grabbing the person talking by their jacket.

“What the hell do you mean you heard...oh shit.”

Mike didn’t want to turn, but he did, and he almost wasn’t surprised at what he saw. It would be their luck the person Richie grabbed was the sister of the kid from minutes prior- his hand wrapped in her cardigan, pulling her towards him aggressively. Her face at first was a mixture of fear and confusion, before it melted, her eyes narrowing into a glare as she recognized Richie.

“Are you  _ fucking  _ kidding me?!” She yelled, breaking the hold on her cardigan as she stumbled back some.

“Look, kid, I’m - “

“I do not want to hear some half assed apology from a creep like you!” The six behind her were exchanging looks, moving to stand behind her, “First you scream at my brother for approaching you- God for _ bid  _ my ten year old brother is-  _ was _ \- a fan of yours for some damn reason! Then you think it’s okay for you to just grab me outside?! What the hell man!”

“Harriet, c’mon, let’s just go- “

“No! Romona- “ She brushed the other girls hands off her shoulders, “Just because you’re a celebrity visiting nowhere Derry doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole to everyone!”

“Hey, c’mon he didn’t mean any harm.” Ben moved to stand by Richie, and the girl, Harriet, turned her glare towards him.

“Didn’t mean any harm? Who sees an adorable, tiny, ten year old boy and thinks, ‘I’m gonna scream in his face!’” She lowered her voice, doing a poor imitation of Richie, that under any other circumstances, would have made them laugh.

“Then to follow it up with grabbing a girl outside in the dark? Do you realize how many boxes you’re checking under ‘Perverted Creep’?!” 

The others had no idea what to do. She was so angry, she had so much fight to her, if anyone else stepped up they would be confronted by her. The shortest in her group, a dark skinned girl, pink blouse tucked into her jeans, and eyes tired and annoyed, sighed. Stepping forward, Mike fully looked at her. Alexa- that was Alexa, one of three of his employees. She sent an apologetic look his way, wrapping her arms around a still yelling Harriet, and lifting her off of the ground.

“I’m sorry about her,” She looked at Richie, “But learn to show some manners, sir.” The last word had bite to it, and Richie flinched some, eyes wide, confused and panicked.

“You need  _ more  _ than manners- how the  _ fuck  _ can you pick me up?! Alexa! Put me  _ down  _ I’m not done!”

“You’re done.” The seven were walking away, leaving behind six grown adults, stunned into complete silence as the others piled in their cars, hearing the muffled curses from the closed door.

“Richie…” He turned to Ben who pat his shoulder, sending him a soft smile, “You’re shit with kids.”

“Why else do you think I haven’t had any?” He joked, stuffing his hands in his pockets, holding his jacket closer to his body for comfort. 

Silence wrapped itself around the losers, as they all stared blankly around, listening to the sound of traffic, the music playing outside of the restaurant. It's now or never. Bev hit the call button, bringing her phone to her ear.

“God…” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at his cheek softly, “I can’t believe this is why we’re back home…”

“Why else would we be here?” Ben asked, voice almost void of any emotion.

“Yes, hi, Mrs. Uris, I’m Beverly Marsh, I was a friend of your husbands.” Bev’s voice broke the silence, and the others turned to her, watching as she put her phone on speaker.

A soft woman’s voice came through the speaker, but the tone surrounding it made their blood run cold. She was crying, soft sniffles and wet coughs coming through. “Oh. I- I’m sorry, he passed.”

It was like a bomb went off in their hearts. Richie felt his eyes well with tears, pressing against them with his thumb and index pads, trying to keep the tears from hitting his glasses. Eddie let his gaze fall to the ground, eyes going out of focus. Ben and Bill exchanged a look, bodies sagging under the weight of the statement. Mike- Mike felt repulsed. He had just talked to Stan the night before. He sounded terrified- but weren’t they all? If he had known- if Mike  _ knew  _ that- if he-

“When did it happen?”

“Last night. It was horrible, how it happened.” Mrs. Uris, Patricia, spoke, voice catching in her throat as she spoke, “His wrists,”

“Bathtub…”

“In the bathtub.” 

The fortunes came back.  _ Guess Stanley could not cut it.  _ That sick bastard. 

“I’m sorry. I- I have to go.”

“We’re all, very sorry Patty.” Bev let her arm drop back to her side, tears welling in her eyes after hearing the news. She barely remembered the others before this day- tidbits of memories, flashes of faces, and echoes of voices. Now one voice, and one face will be forever gone, unseen and unheard.

She pulled out a cigarette, shaky hands lighting it. 

“Fucking Stanley. He  _ knew  _ before we did!” Eddie spoke, voice harsh and rough. 

“That’s- that’s what he does,  _ it  _ does. Look, guys, I have a plan - “

“I’ve got a plan- getting the fuck out of dodge. Who’s with me?” Richie put a hand up, and Eddie paused in his pacing, hand going up slightly.

“I’m with Richie.”

“Rich, other people are gonna die.”

“Other people die everyday!” Richie threw his hands up, “We don’t owe this town shit! Plus, I just remembered I grew up here like, two hours ago so I’m fucking leaving! Fuck this!” 

He starts walking backwards slowly, hands up slightly as he stares at Mike, who watched him with a sort of helplessness. Eddie joined in, moving to stand between the two, “I’m sorry man, I’m with Richie.”

Richie pointed at Eddie, a pointed look on his face. Mike stepped forward, pleading, “Guys- you  _ saw _ \- you  _ heard  _ the others- “

“Listen, what?” Eddie stopped him, placing his hands on top of Mike’s shoulders, “We stay? We die? I’m gonna go back to the inn, I’m gonna pack up my shit, and I’m gonna drive to my home.” He stepped backwards, eyes training on Mike’s face, feeling a mixture of guilt and fear, “I’m sorry man. Good luck.”

The two walked back to their cars, parked next to each other- leaving the other four outside of the jade. Bev was couched down, cigarette still between her lips, hands shaky. Ben walked over, crouching to be on her level, voice soft as he spoke, “You okay?”

She didn’t answer, standing up, heading back to the car she brought, and she heard Ben sign behind her, a tired, quiet one, as he too stood, glancing back at Mike and Bill, before following after her. Her voice was soft as she spoke, “You going back to the town house?”

His voice was further away, “Yeah.”

“Guys...guys wait!” 

He heard Bill’s voice from behind him, “You shoulda told us Mikey.” The nickname stung, and he watched helplessly, brain firing off at a mile per second. He turned, seeing Bill’s back to him. “Bill…”

The shorter man turned to Mike, eyes sad and far away, he opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off, “You heard those kids- they- they  _ heard  _ what we saw.”

Bill paused, mouth closing as he thought. They had talked about hearing a baby crying, and he unwillingly remembered what happened inside minutes ago. The terrifying baby bug, screaming in an almost demonic way. An illusion sent by Pennywise, something their waitress hadn’t seen, something that wasn’t  _ real.  _ Yet that group of kids…

“Does that m-m-mean,” Bill struggled, an annoyed look crossing his face as he struggled with his stuttering, something he hadn’t dealt with in years, “That he’s going a-after- “

“I think so. Look,” Mike held the book in his hands, “I have a plan. I- “

“What does it matter? You heard the o-others.”

“They’ll listen to you.” He stopped talking, studying Mike, “They  _ always  _ listen to you. Please just- let- let me show you.”

A moment of silence passed over them, before Bill allowed his eyes to close, nodding. “Alright…”

Mike lit up, seeing a glimmer of hope and light in this dark time. The two made their way back to their cars, stepping inside as Mike told Bill where to go, to follow them. As the two stepped in their cars, not far over, the group of seven were stepping inside- lights flickering on as they entered Harriet’s home.

“Dean and Sarah are at a friend’s house tonight, Justin, mom, and dad are at grandma’s- God knows when they’ll be back- but we have the house to ourselves for a bit!”

“You expect us to do anything different than we normally do?” Atley asked, voice dry and sarcastic.

Harriet stuck her tongue out at him, nose scrunching up in a sneer. “Shut it- it’s Mila’s birthday- she gets to decide what we do.”

All eyes turned to her, and she felt her eyes widen some. That was a lot of pressure. “Uh- horror movies, snacks, presents and booze?”

“Fuck yeah!” Harriet cheered, “Dad said he hid some beer and cheap wine in the basement- it’s gonna taste like shit but it’s for us.”

“God your basement’s creepy.” Romona spoke, “Always feel like something’s watching me down there.”

Harriet shrugged, “That’s why I make Dean go down if I need something. He’s not here though so…” She paused, before hurriedly bringing her finger to her nose, “Not it!”

The others followed suit, fingers darting to their noses as they echoed her.

“Alright- Romona you go get it.”

“I- what!” She squawked, finger still on her nose, “Mila was last!”

“It’s her  _ birthday, _ ” Alexa butt in, “She’s an outlier in this.”

“This is just  _ rude, _ ” She sighed, giving in. 

“I’ll come with you,” Atley spoke up, sending the shorter girl a small smile, which she returned gratefully.

Nadia huffed quietly, leaning onto Alexa as the two set off towards the basement. Harriet clapped her hands together, “Alright! Pajamas, movies, snacks! Or, snacks then movies, I guess.” The others rolled their eyes as they unpacked their bags, heading to bathrooms or bedrooms to get changed.

Harriet entered her bedroom, Alexa, Mila, and Nadia following as Presley entered the hallway bathroom, and Harriet watched him, a little uneasy as he did so. She turned, grabbing an old t-shirt form a drawer and slipper her cardigan off, letting it fall to the floor.

“You’re a slob,” Alexa muttered, folding her clothes and shoving them back into her bag.

Harriet shrugged. “My room.” As she changed she couldn’t help but have her mind wander, the chatter of her friends drowning out as she remembered the previous few days- the weird feeling washing about- the events that have been happening.

“What’s this?” She turned, eyes widening as Nadia held a small book up.

Her heart skipped several beats, and she felt her breath become shaky. Nadia was holding her now red, blood stained diary- the one she hadn’t seen in years, not until that day in the bathroom, with the- 

She snatched it from Nadia, eyes fixated on it. “Woah- damn okay. Uh, what the hell?”

“Hey Harriet do you have- what the fuck- why the fuck is that covered in blood?”

She snapped her head up, craning her neck to look at Presley who had just wandered in, holding his sauce stained shirt in his hands, eyes wide as he looked at the book in her hands.

“You can- you can see it.” Her voice cracked, and the others looked at her with confusion.

“Of fucking course we can see it- what kind of question is that?” Mila demanded, “You haven’t answered his- ours. Why is it covered in blood?”

She felt like she was losing her mind. She had done her best to avoid that bathroom after whatever it is that happened...happened. But her mom needed a hand towel, and those were kept in the bathroom closet. She was forced to go back there, and upon opening the door she saw the blood drops on the ground, from where they had fallen from her book. 

_ A strained scream left her lips as she stumbled backwards. Her mom came rushing in, hands still damp, but eyes frantic. “Harriet? Harriet what’s wrong? Are you okay?” _

_ She pointed to the ground, hand shaking. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to say.  _ ‘See that blood there? That fell from an old diary I burned in ninth grade! Some creep that may or may not have been a ghost taunted me with it! Anyway- what towel do you need mom?’  _ But no words left her mouth. Her mother stepped forward, eyes glancing around, scanning the entirety of the closet. _

_ “What? Was there a spider? A waterbug? Did you cut yourself on something?” She turned to Harriet, checking her hands and arms, and Harriet couldn’t help but feel lost, terrified, anxious. _

_ “I- what?” _

_ “Don’t scream like that,” Her mom placed a hand over her heart, “I thought a shelf had fallen on top of you hun.” She pat her check softly, grabbing a small hand towel before leaving, leaving a still shaky Harriet there. _

_ Her mom had glanced at the blood- even if you didn’t look directly at it, the pool was large enough to be noticed. Yet her mother did nothing to show she saw it, no comment, no reaction.  _

_ She tentatively stepped forward, bending down to get closer. It was definitely there, and she dipped the edge of her finger in it, flinching as it still felt warm.  _

“I- I don’t know.”

“The hell you mean you don’t know? You don’t just get blood covered books and  _ not  _ know how you get them!”

She sent an exasperated look at Nadia, shaking her head some.

“Hey I thought we were gonna hang in the living room, what’s- what the hell.” Romona’s voice came from behind Presley, and he moved from the door, where Romona and Atley stood, arms holding beer cans and wine bottles. 

“I- fuck.” Harriet let out a strained laugh, “I think we need to talk.”

“Did you fucking murder someone?”

“What? No!” Harriet’s face was appalled, and Atley shrugged feebly.

“I...look I- saw something.”

The others tensed slightly, and she sat on the edge of her bed, “I don’t even...I can’t explain it. I mean I can- but I. In the bathroom, Dean he was- talking to someone. An imaginary friend. But then he said something,  _ cruel _ , and- “

“ _ Dean  _ said something cruel?”

“That’s what I thought. But he wasn’t in the bathroom. No one was. And then something was in the closet, and I thought he was hiding. But I was the only one in there. And then someone...some _ thing  _ started talking to me. And this,” She held up her old diary, “I had this in  _ middle  _ school. And I burned it in ninth grade. It shouldn’t  _ be  _ here. And whoever, whatever it was- had it. And he was commenting about it, and then blood started falling from it. There was a pool of it in the closet- and mom- she didn’t see it at  _ all. _ ” She let her eyes fall shut, “I thought I was going crazy.”

Silence covered them, Romona and Atley stepping inside fully, shutting the door behind them.

Alexa spoke up next. “I saw something too.” They turned to her, and Harriet opened her eyes, “Not like...I mean kind of like you did. It was at the church- Martha wanted me to wait in the pews. And the statue- of Jesus’ crucifiction? It- it started bleeding. And then it wasn’t a statue- it was a human, a living, breathing,  _ screaming  _ human. And I- I ran. I was terrified, but when I looked back he was just a statue again. No- no blood, no noise. I ran back to the house- and there was a balloon, and then there was this...man, this- “

“Clown.” Atley finished, and Alexa looked at him before nodding. “I saw it too.”

“A...clown?” Harriet questioned, “Like...face paint, red nose, colorful hair, a- “

“A  _ clown,  _ Harriet. Like...yeah, he had face paint.” Alexa’s shoulders sagged, “And there...I thought I was insane.”

“I saw him,” Atley continued off of where he was, and the others turned to look at him, “Well he- at first he was my mom.”

“He...was your mom?”

“Yeah. He like, it  _ was  _ my mom. She was talking to me, telling me there was room at the hospital for me, telling me...that no one would believe me. Then I turned around and it- it wasn’t my mom anymore, it was the clown. And I ran, I got home, and I mentioned thinking I heard something and- and,” He got choked up, “My aunt- her face, she was so scared for me. And I brushed it off. I panicked- and I told her it was nothing, I brushed it off.” 

“I saw him too.” Mila spoke up, flopping onto the bed, facing up to the ceiling, “He- I was leaving my house. And I thought I heard my aunt- and I went to see if she needed help but it wasn’t her in the bed it- it was me. Me but I was, older. I was thin- too thin- and frail looking and  _ weak  _ and he- she- it kept telling me that I couldn’t do anything anymore, that I was useless, that I had to have people do things for me because I wasn’t able to do anything by for me- to help anyone. I tried ignoring it- I almost did- but then the heart monitor flat lined and I  _ looked  _ and it was the clown and I- I- I just ran. Booked it.” 

Romona moved to sit next to her, offering a comforting pat on her shoulder, awkward at the angle Mila was laying at, but comforting nonetheless. Silence fell upon them once more, the four kids spoke of their encounters, encounters that they thought their brains made up, that were solely to them, that weren’t  _ real.  _ But as the other three shifted uncomfortably, they all knew, and understood- this was very much real.

Harriet looked from the silent three- a quiet urge for someone to go next. And they did- Presley clearing his throat. “Mine- it wasn’t necessarily. Like yours- it wasn’t necessarily people or things physically there,” He stopped, clenching and unclenching his fists like he normally did when he got stuck inside his head, “One of the pictures I have of us, and it was moving. I thought it was a trick of the light- but it was  _ us.  _ Moving. Like a freaking painting in Harry Potter- and we were splitting up. We- we fought and people left, alone, two, three. I don’t know what- what happened exactly- but then there was blood coming from my picture and someone in it  _ died  _ and I  _ know  _ they did because we split like that- and- and- “ Harriet stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist with tenderness, and he stopped talking, taking a deep breath and sinking into her embrace.

“You’re alright,” She whispered, “We’ve watched  _ all  _ possible horror movies together, we know the rules- we’re smart enough to know not to split up. So you  _ never  _ have to worry about that, okay?”

He nodded, and she moved them to sit on her bed, holding his hand, his head rested on her shoulder. Romona cleared her throat, “It was similar for me, you know my mom lost her sister when we were kids. And she has all these pictures on her walls and the mantle and  _ everywhere  _ and I  _ look  _ like her, and mom  _ wants  _ me to be like her and it  _ sucks.  _ But a picture of her, one  _ too  _ close to my room, it was talking to me,” She laughed, hearing how ridiculous she sounded, saying it outloud- a picture  _ talked  _ to her, “Just...telling me I was nothing like her, nothing like what my mom wanted me to be, to look like or act like. Pointed out every  _ flaw  _ in me, that I’m nothing like my perfect,” She put on a higher pitch voice, “ _ ‘ Aunt Betty Ripsom, taken from us too early but back through the perfect daughter Romona Ripsom-Nakamura.’ _ ” She stopped, and sighed, body sagging, “I felt so bad, and then her eyes were basically  _ glowing  _ this weird- “

“Yellow?”

She nodded, “This bright yellow, and she was reaching out of the picture, trying to grab the bow from my hair,” She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair, finger lightly brushing the multicolored, 80s hairband, “I ran into the living room- right into my parents who were on the phone with grandma, and mom was telling her of  _ all  _ my accomplishments at school being just like Aunty’s.”

Nadia sighed. “Now I feel pressured to tell, and I swore to myself I’d never speak of the incident again.” She tried making light of the situation, but sighed nonetheless, “I- I don’t wanna talk about it too much? You know? I just- it was- “

“Hey,” Romona motioned for her to step closer, grabbing her hand softly, still seated next to Mila, “Talk about as much as you’re comfortable with, okay?”

Nadia nodded. “I- after training I went to the showers. It was empty, I was there later than intended. And the mirrors got foggy after, yeah? And I was in my towel, and my leg- well I was taking the bag cover off, and I happened to look into the mirror and- well it wasn’t  _ me  _ me. It was me, but wrong. In all ways. I was- God I was thin,”

“Nadia…”

“No like- unhealthily thin. You could see my cheekbones and my ribs were jutting out and I looked- a step away from death. Then reflection me was walking to me, like a damn horror movie scene, and she was talking, but I heard her in my head.” She shook her own, stopping, “I just- it felt so  _ real  _ like that’s- what I looked like. Or what I was  _ going  _ to look like. And I nearly ran out in a damn towel- but I changed as fast as I could and just...got home as quick as I could.” She let out a tired laugh, “And here I was- just thinking I was crazy.”

No one knew what to say. They were all convinced they were going crazy- but here they may not have been. Or maybe they  _ all  _ were going insane? 

“So- so how do we- explain this?” Presley asked, voice quiet and low.

“What?” He met eyes with Romona.

“Like- there  _ has  _ to be some way to explain it. Like- we what- we saw- what did we even see?”

“Our fears?” Mila supplied, “I mean...I know we joke about what scares us and shit- I uh, spiders? Heights? But these were...further than that. They were, well,” She shrugged, “Our...greatest fears, I think.”

Romona nodded, moving her legs to hold against her chest. “I- hate it. Being compared to someone who died in the fucking 80s. But it’s been happening since I was  _ born.  _ I know I look like auntie but I’m not her. But I’ve always been so scared of letting my mom and dad down. Of not being who they want me to be, not being like  _ her.  _ And-” She trailed off, glancing at the others, “Letting you all down. Making wrong decisions for us, not being a good friend or a good sister to you all.”

“Romona,” Atley spoke, moving to place a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head, “Not the time for comforting really, time to figure shit out.”

He nodded, picking up after her, “I mean...I hate the idea of ending up like mom. That’s not...news to anyone really. I just put it off as me going crazy, really.” 

“Maybe you are?” Harriet questioned, “Maybe we all are? I mean- mass hysteria is a thing.” 

“Harriet- “

“Or- or- like those people in France? That danced to their deaths?”

“Why do you have to bring up that  _ all  _ the time?”

“Because,  _ one  _ it’s weird as hell,  _ two  _ that’s probably what’s happening. We’re stressed and- and tired, and fearful of growing up! We’re all- hallucinating, our...greatest fears!”

“Harriet,” Romona stood up, and Harriet turned to her, not even realizing she had stood up and begun pacing, “We have to do something about this.”

“We don’t have to do  _ anything  _ Mona. Like, at all.”

“This thing- this demonic clown thing- we see it. And no one else does apparently. We  _ have  _ to do something.”

“No, we  _ don’t  _ Romona.” She stated, voice firm, “We don’t owe this stupid,  _ backwards  _ town anything. At all. Ever! Anything!” She wasn’t making anymore sense, and she knew that, gripping the edges of her hair,  _ “Fuck!” _

“Ettie,” Alexa spoke softly, and Harriet turned to her, “This is something happening, something bad. And I- I think this has something to do with the missing kids, the bodies being found.”

“...what?”

“Yeah, Alexa, what?” Mila moved closer to her, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Maybe...maybe she’s right.” Her eyes went wide, hands moving around quickly, “The- okay so it shows us, or takes place as our fears right? So- okay then people panic, they run, they leave. When you’re scared you don’t think properly, and you trust people without thinking. And- “ Her eyes widened, “The...bodies. They’re kids, or outsides, like...like Adrian Mellon was here. And you tend to trust adults. Adults you think you know…” She and Alexa exchanged a look.

“You don’t think that- “

“I think so. I mean, it all started recently, and what else happened out of nowhere?”

“But one of them was- “

“And celebrities get away with anything and everything, Alexa.”

“Uh hello,” Presley waved his hand, “There’s five others in this room.”

“The adults we ran into at the Jade, with Richie Tozier.” Harriet crossed her arms at the sound of his name, “What if...they’re a team? Some demonic clown showing us things to terrorize us and causing us to run away. Then this group of people- seem trustworthy, hell one’s our local librarian- comes out of nowhere. Saves the person, saves a person from- from a hate crime, from our fears, from something  _ bad.  _ And they- they kill.”

“That’s insane.” Nadia spoke up, voice shaky and fearful.

“Crazier than a demonic clown that shapeshifts into our greatest fears?” Nadia didn’t have a response, and Romona sighed, rubbing her face.

“So...what? A clown terrorizes people and this group of adults kills them?” 

“Maybe?” Mila shook her head, “I don’t know, I mean, I’ve never seen them before, and I grew up here. Well, Mike, but he’s our librarian. But the others? They come out of nowhere, and bodies are showing up. Limbs torn from them, and- and- and- the cops don’t do anything! Like they’re getting  _ paid  _ something.”

Harriet sighed, “Cool so I screamed at one sixth of a serial killer gang?”

“I think so.” 

“So…” Romona spoke up, “We do something about it, right?”

“We have to stop them, this town is- is crappy, but with kids dying we have to stop it.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Presley asked, voice breaking, “I mean- fuck- there’s seven of us and we’re not even old enough to  _ drink  _ Romona. How are we supposed to take down serial killers and a supernatural clown?”

_ “Harriet!”  _ They all jumped, hearing Mrs. P yelling up at them, “Harriet are you all up in your room?”

“Uh- yeah mom! Decided to uh, watch movies and stuff up here!”

“Well, alright sweetie. Don’t stay up too late! And happy birthday Mila!”

“Thanks Mrs. and Mr. P!”

“Okay yeah- goodnight mom, goodnight dad.”

The seven looked around at each other, eyes wide and breath quicker than normal. “So- we’re taking down some serial killers, and a killer clown?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my IG: @aj.coses.that


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Update: 2/10/2020

“A tribal ritual?” Richie’s voice was loud, and for a brief moment Bev remembers when they were younger, she would feed into his energy, do their best to annoy the other five, but now she sat quiet, allowing Richie’s voice to be a weight, keeping her tethered to the present.

“Are you  _ fucking  _ kiding me man? Alright, there’s gotta be another way!”

Eddie was pacing behind her, and she didn’t even have to turn around to image the worried look on his face. Almost three decades later and none of them had changed all that much.

“This things come back every twenty seven years? Just kick the can down the road and do it then!”

“Wait- we’ll be seventy years old asshole!”

Richie made a face, a mixture between shocked, hurt, and scared as Eddie spoke, hands flying around as Bev’s mind picked up on speed, images flashing behind her eyes, voices yelling out in her head.

_ “R-Richie?” _

“It doesn’t work that way. None of us make it another twenty years. In the way it happens.” Bill moved, hand rubbing Bev’s back in soft, circular motions, and Ben glanced from between the two back to Richie, who downed a shot heavily.

“So...if we don’t beat it this cycle.”

“We die.”

“Horribly.”

“Yeah I don’t need...the horribly part.”

_ “Eddie!” _

Bev flinched, the moment the voices yelled out they vanished, and she couldn’t recall who was yelling, she didn’t know why or when.

“I didn’t say it she said it not me!”

“Alright guys look, I’ve seen w-w-what he’s talking about.” Bill spoke up, voice shaky but strong, and the others tuned to listen to him, “And he- i-i-it’s all true.”

“If we want this ritual to work.”

“We’ve got to remember.”

“Remember what?” Mike glanced at Richie before shaking his head.

“There’s- there’s more to it too.”

“What? More to- to us now just remembering a murderous clown that terrorized our youth and has now killed one of our best friends whom we’ve all forgotten about until it was too late?” Eddie’s voice was borderline shrill, eyebrows furrowed and Richie’s eyes fell down to the bar, suddenly misty, a throbbing behind his glasses.

“I think...It’s reached out to others.”

“Reached out- what do you mean, Mike?” Ben straightened his back, full attention on Mike, and Bev felt her stomach roll in her body.

“Those k-k-kids we saw at the restaurant- the one Richie yelled a-at.”

“C’mon man…” 

Bill ignored him, continuing his explanation, “Remember?”

“Yes I remember them! The one with glasses nearly tore my head off!”

“It’s not her you have to worry for, really, it’s more so her friend, Alexa.” The five turned their gazes to him quickly, and Mike felt himself flush, “She works in the library. That’s not the point.”

“R-Right, well,” Bill took over, “When they were leaving. Rich, you g-grabbed her because you hea-heard her say something.”

Richie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes widened behind his glasses. “She had mentioned hearing a baby scream before we...trashed the area.”

Mike snapped his fingers. “They heard it. Her and her friends  _ heard  _ the- the things It showed us! What only  _ we  _ were supposed to see! Hear even!”

“What are you saying Mikey?”

He looked down, heart heavy, he could only hope he was wrong, but he feared he was right. “I don’t think It really wanted us back. I think- I think It’s  _ afraid  _ of us.”

“Afraid of us? I’m not sure why a creature that powerful would be afraid of a group of ragtag adults but - “

“We almost killed It. Remember, Rich? That summer. We- the seven of us. We almost killed It. No one’s gotten that close before.”

“Other than the S-Shokopiwah. They didn’t k-kill It like they hoped but they st-stopped It. And w-w-we can do the same.” 

Mike nodded after a pause, “Yes. We- we can finish what the Shokopiwah started. And- and I think It knows that. And is afraid of us. And didn’t want us back. So- so it still needed to eat- to kill a-a-and lure people! So it found a new group. More…”

“Outsiders.” Bill finished where Mike hesitated, already piecing together what Mike was implying. “They’re like us. And It caught sight of them.”

“Like us?”

“There were- what- seven of them at the restaurant? And they  _ heard  _ the demonic baby thing- that- that doesn’t mean...it  _ can’t  _ mean that, Mike.” Richie stood up, shaking his head.

They had all been kids when It attacked them. They had almost lost their lives at thirteen, and comparing to those kids they saw earlier- they were younger than this group. But looking back- being an  _ adult  _ and looking back- the idea of It going after  _ anyone  _ let alone kids…

“It has.” Mike nodded, a far away look in his eyes, “And we have to stop It.”

“That brings us b-back to what we said earlier, about re-remembering.”

“Remembering  _ what _ ?” 

“It’s better if I show you.” Without another word Mike moved forward, headed towards the door of the Inn.

He could hear the other five scrambling behind him, Bill catching up first and walking directly behind him. The sunlight had barely even begun to shine through the darkness of the night, starts dimly twinkling overhead as they began their walk. 

He could hear Richie quickly grumble to Eddie behind them, the soft tapping of shoes as Ben caught up with Bev, offering her a soft smile, one of which she returned. Bill was next to Mike now, and they glanced at each other.

“You doing o-okay?”

Mike paused, before nodding slowly. “We don’t have much time,” He spoke to the group now, “This cycle will end soon. And once it does…” He trailed off, not needing to continue, the message was clearly there.

“We’re fucked.”

The walk was quiet, minus the birds and animals waking up as they walked. A few cars driving by as some people made their way to work. The losers could only hope they could be fast enough. 

“Where the fuck is he even taking us?” Richie whispered to Eddie, swatting at a bug that flew by his ear, feeling soft brushes of the tall grass as they continued following, looking like Peter Pan and his gang of lost boys, and girl.

“How the fuck should I know?”

“It was  _ rhetorical  _ dude.”

“Then why the hell did you ask  _ me  _ in the first place?”

“Cause I thought you might have an idea!”

“If you expected an answer that doesn’t make the question rhetorical dumbass!” 

Richie huffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, glaring forward as the sun began to rise higher, beams of light stabbing into his eyes, seemingly strengthened by the glass over his eyes.

“Maybe to fight It?”

“Fighting It won’t jog our memories.”

“I mean- it might. Like riding a bike maybe?”

Richie shook his head, “Mike’s just being cryptic.”

Eddie didn’t answer, but Richie didn’t blame him. Out of the six of them, Mike was the only one with some idea of what was happening and how to stop it. Call them sheep, but at this point they’d willingly follow him around, blindly stumbling behind. 

The trip continued a bit longer before the six found themselves in some woods, morning daylight illuminating a puzzle piece of their memories. Mike had slowed down quite a bit, and the others followed suit, eyes wandering around as they took it in.

Bev was the first to speak up. “The barrens.”

“This is where we came…” Ben’s face slowly formed a grin, memories allowing him to see past just the trees and dirt, “After the rock fight.”

Richie paused, looking towards Ben as if he hung the moon. “The clubhouse!”

“You built that for us!”

“Yeah- yeah the hatch has gotta be around here some place.” 

“You did- I  _ do  _ remember that!”

Despite the overwhelming fear the others felt only hours before, the memories they were recalling were all  _ good.  _ Light, and happy. Ben, sweet, young, chubby cheeked Ben- a bright smile on his face as he looked at the others, his six  _ friends.  _

“You know what, I actually think the door was more around here,” Ben had walked off a bit, stomping harshly on the ground as he pondered.

The five others watched, eyes widening as Ben fell through the ground, landing with a loud crash. They moved forward a bit before hearing Ben call out from below.

“Found it! I’m okay! Come down!”

_ A loud crash rang through the once quiet library. A few heads turned but no one got up to move, so it was left alone. A small boy, hair curled and falling into his face, sat with a scowl on his face, brown eyes narrowed and glaring at the book he was reading- well,  _ trying  _ to read. _

_ Another noise, quieter this time, came from the same place, and he huffed loudly, bookmarking his place before moving to where the noise was coming from. _

_ He saw another kid his age, hunched over a pile of what appeared to be fallen books on the ground, and they were quietly talking to themselves. _

_ “You know, we’re supposed to be  _ quiet  _ in a library.”  _

_ The person in question yelped and turned, falling onto the ground as they stared up, two pairs of brown eyes meeting, one filled with annoyance, the other covered with glasses. _

_ The girl before him got over her surprise quick, choosing to glare back.  _

_ “Yeah- I know how a library works dumb dumb!” _

_ “You’re not being very quiet!” _

_ “I have a right to make as much noise as I want! It says so in the Declaration of Independence.” _

_ “What?” He crossed his arms, “No it doesn’t.” _

_ “Does too!” _

_ “Prove it!” _

_ “You prove that it doesn’t!” _

_ He huffed, and the girl stuck her nose in the air, standing up and placing her hands on her sides. “Thought so. Now if you’ll excuse me- “ _

_ “Presley Long!” One of the new workers, a mean old lady Presley did  _ not  _ like, came up, arms crossed as she glared at the smaller boy, ignoring the girl who was the one making noises. “You know better than to yell in the library!” _

_ “But- ma’am I wasn’t yelling, and- “ _

_ “No sir! You do  _ not  _ talk back to me!” _

_ “You’re yelling now too!” The girl moved forward, fixing her glare on Ms. Shurman now, crossing her arms in a similar fashion, “And how is he supposed to  _ talk  _ to you if you’re gonna yell at him for doing so?” _

_ “Young lady, he  _ knows  _ the rules, as should you- “ _

_ “You don’t seem to know the rules!”  _

_ Ms. Shurman gaped at the two, face burning with annoyance. Presley looked at the brunette standing next to him, before he got a plan.  _

_ “Yeah!” He tucked his arms behind his back, “You  _ always  _ yell at me when I come in here! It’s not fair- I like reading!” _

_ “You do?” The girl looked at him weird, and he made a small face at her. _

_ Ms. Shurman laughed, annoyed and mean, “Oh you and your family think you can just come into  _ our  _ town and ruin the sanctuary of our places. Being a loudmouth in a place meant for study and work!” _

_ “You’re being loud!” _

_ They had gained the attention of everyone there, and Presley felt himself grow nervous. But now he had someone else there to defend from Ms. Shurman’s wrath. _

_ “Yeah! Learn to be quiet!” With that, he threw the book he managed to grab at her, not a hard back, he wasn’t an  _ animal,  _ before he grabbed the girls hand and the two booked it, weaving through isles, running through doors before they stopped. _

_ The girl started laughing. “You hit her with a book!” _

_ Presley was gasping for air, falling to sit on the ground as he realized what he did. Quickly, his eyes filled with tears and he began to cry, stopping the girl from jumping in circles. “H-Hey, what’s wrong?” _

_ “I’m not gonna be allowed back!” _

_ “I mean- uh- is that bad?” _

_ Presley nodded, rubbing his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Told you. I like reading.” _

_ The girl scrunched up her nose, sitting down next to him. “I don’t like readin’- it’s boring. Plus it’s  _ hard. _ ” _

_ He shook his head. “Reading isn’t boring! I like readin’- specially Magic Tree House!” _

_ She paused, tilting her head a bit, “Don’t think mama’s read that to me yet.” _

_ “I could read it to you!” He felt his chest lighten at his excitement, before he deflated once more, “No I can’t. Cause I’m gonna get kicked out of the library and never be allowed to read another book ever again!” His eyes started filling up with tears. _

_ She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, uh- my daddy can buy us the books? And we can read them at my house?” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Yeah! I think daddy would rather buy me books than like...drawing paper. I like drawing.” She pulled at the edge of her hair, “Oh! I’m Harriet by the way! Harriet Parker! Like Peter Parker- but I’m not named Peter. I wish I was- then I could be a superhero.” _

_ The two continued talking quietly, joking and making fun of some of the kids in their first grade class, a few older kids as well. It was mere minutes before the  _ actual  _ librarian found the two, a red eyed little boy and a bouncing girl, trying her best to keep him happy. Obviously, Presley wasn’t kicked out of the library, nor was he banned from it. Quite the opposite- Ms. Shurman was quickly let go, her backwards views and words leading to her downfall. _

_ But what’s done was done. _

_ Presley Long and Harriet Parker met- young, innocent and naive first graders. Twenty three years prior to this happening, two young, hard headed boys met, forming an unbreakable bond. The bonds were alike in almost every way one can think- _ the only difference being time.

Presley and Harriet hadn’t moved on from the events that had yet to unfold, and they had yet to forget each other. The other two? They remembered- but far too late. 


End file.
